It's No Good
by JadeOceans
Summary: Schuldich is determined to have Yohji. Completed 9-26-10.
1. Author's Note

This is an epic (or at least it has felt like one) fanfic in the making. Almost all of it has been written but due to other conflicts (job, school, etc.) I haven't been able to type everything up.

The story is tied heavily into the timeline of the original series (no Gluhen here, folks), with a few minor changes. It begins right around the start of the second season and continues until the end of the series, so there are spoilers galore. It is mainly a Schuldich/Yohji fic but because I'm a sap for happy couples, there are other pairings in the story. The title was borrowed from a Depeche Mode song (lyrics are below) that heavily influenced much of the writing and has basically become the theme for Schuldich and Yohji.

Because of this site's new rules about posting sexual scenes, this story has its own website, which you can reach through this link: (adding a period after "angelfire) or via the link to the homepage listed in my profile. I don't usually write NC-17, but I don't know how lenient they're being about R-rated stories. Parts 5 and 6 are available exclusively at the other site.

**Update as of 1/17/09** - Happy new year! Again, sorry for the wait but here is Part 8! For whatever reason, when I uploaded this time, the old formats seemed to work, but if there are typos or errors I apologize. I can never seem to get things formatted the same way twice so I encourage you to check out the website (as poorly crafted as it is) to see the story in all its glory.

All the love in the world to Surichan, my dearest friend and beta. And remember, feedback is always welcome! :smiles innocently:

"It's No Good" is dedicated to Amanda Fleetwood, who contributed so much but didn't get to see it finished. I'm sorry I didn't write faster, Little One.

**"It's No Good"**

by Depeche Mode

I'm going to take my time.

I have all the time in the world

To make you mine.

It is written in the stars above.

The gods decree

You'll be right here by my side.

Right next to me

You can run but you cannot hide.

Don't say you want me,

Don't say you need me,

Don't say you love me,

It's understood.

Don't say you're happy,

Out there without me,

I know you can't be,

Cause it's no good.

I'll be fine.

I'll be waiting patiently

Till you see the signs

And come running to my open arms.

When will you realize?

Do we have to wait till our worlds collide?

Open up your eyes,

You can't turn back the tide

Don't say you want me,

Don't say you need me,

Don't say you love me,

It's understood.

Don't say you're happy,

Out there without me,

I know you can't be,

Cause it's no good.

I'm going to take my time.

I have all the time in the world

To make you mine.

It is written in the stars above...


	2. Part 1

"It's No Good"

by Beth Gulla

/.../ represents thoughts

~...~ represents telepathy

  
  


**1**

Yohji rested his chin in his hand and sighed. Business at the shop was slow today. Omi had yet to return from school, the underage horde of girls streaming after him, and the few regulars they had in the mornings had already passed through. An unlucky mishap with a bag of potting soil and Aya's Porsche had landed him with the morning shift, something he was still grumbling over. It wasn't like he'd known the bag had a hole in it when he set it on the car, trying to adjust his burden. And how was he to know it would rip and pour half a bag of moist dirt all over the front seat of the car before he could snatch it back? Apparently, Aya didn't care if he'd purposely tore open the bag and sprinkled soil with glee, or just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He just saddled Yohji with the next three morning shifts, informed him he'd be paying for the cleaning bill, then stalked off, muttering unintelligible threats under his breath. All things considered, Yohji was lucky he wasn't going to be starting the latest fad as a human pincushion. 

Not that the morning shift was all that bad, aside from getting up early to work it. His day so far had been relatively quiet, giving him the time he needed to turn over a troubling matter that had been building over the last few days. Seated behind the register at the counter, he could ponder in peace with only the occasional interruption by a customer. The only thing that would have made it perfect was a cigarette but that luxury tended to irritate his coworkers and as fun as it was to rile Ken, he didn't feel like putting forth the effort today. 

His problem lay in the dreams he had been having nearly every night for a week or so. He'd had dreams before, of heat and passion, kisses of liquid fire and touches that burned straight to the core, but never had they been so vivid or persistent. Interspersed between one-night stands and nightmares of Asuka, he usually welcomed the occasional sex dream. In fact, that was usually what set him in the perfect mood for wining and dining the next lucky lady. But over the past few nights the dreams he had been having were both tantalizingly vivid in sensation and frustratingly blurry in visual. The only thing he was clear on was that his mysterious lover was not a woman, but a _man_.

Being of a very sexual nature, Yohji wasn't shocked by the first dream, when he had realized his lover was male. He had flirted with the notion before, even stopped by a couple of clubs that catered to those who swung just about any way they pleased. But the idea of making love to a man was so foreign to him and combined with the lack of a man who interested him that way, he dismissed it as a passing fancy and returned to the world of women that he knew so well. 

But the continuing dreams left a frustrated desire in him that lingered long after he woke up and sowed seeds of doubt concerning his sexual preferences. And doubting that aspect of himself was not something Yohji Kudou delighted in. Especially not when his dream lover appeared to be the same every night, but always had his face hidden, so Yohji could never tell who it was. It must be someone he had met somewhere, because he couldn't imagine dreaming so consistently about a random person. 

He must have been deep within his thoughts, because he didn't even notice Ken standing on the other side of the counter talking to him until Ken snapped his fingers in front of Yohji's face 

"Yohji, quit daydreaming and do some actual work for a change," Ken groused. "You can worry about your women later." He dropped a trash bag full of flower cuttings on the counter. "I've been talking _at _you for the last five minutes!" Inwardly, Yohji sighed but decided to play along, simply because he didn't want Ken irritated at him for the next few hours until Omi came home and Aya showed up for work. Even so, as he picked up the bag he couldn't help the mischievous grin that slid across his lips. 

"What's wrong, Kenken, jealous? Wish I was thinking of you instead?" he teased. He leaned closer, his most suggestive leer in place. "If you want, we could close the store, maybe go upstairs and work off some of that tension...?" Ken's eyebrows shot up and he immediately reddened, though whether in anger or embarrassment, Yohji couldn't say. 

"B-baka! Stop joking around and just take the trash out!" He swiped at the taller assassin half-heartedly and Yohji easily dodged, swinging the bag over his shoulder as he sauntered towards the back door. He paused to blow Ken a kiss and grinned at his friend's outraged sputtering as the door shut behind him. 

The trash bin was at the end of the alley and after dumping his burden, he paused to fish out a cigarette and lighter. 

/No sense wasting the unexpected break,/ he thought, taking a long drag. He closed his eyes and tilted his face up to the sun, letting the smoke out with a sigh. God, it was a gorgeous day. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to quietly slip out of the alley to where Seven was parked and take off on a drive by the water. Maybe even stop by that same restaurant where he always ordered two cups of coffee and turn this problem over in his mind there. He chuckled ironically. He could even ask Asuka what she thought of it. She was dead and gone, but he still sometimes pictured what she might say if he talked about some of the messes he had gotten himself into. He could just hear her now. 

"Thinking about a man? Really, Yohji, that's no way for a playboy to act! What will the women think?" A teasing smile would tug at her lips, though, softening the words. Yohji opened his eyes, quickly blinking back a familiar stinging and taking another drag off his cigarette. It was silly, he supposed, to imagine carrying on conversations with a dead partner, but it was better than the guilt and self-accusations any day. 

He steered his thoughts back to the dreams and tried harder to picture who his mysterious lover was but it was like trying to grab at water. The image just swirled away maddeningly, always out of reach. Yohji stifled a growl as he shifted, grateful he had worn slacks instead of skin-tight leather as a few more vivid sensations shivered across his nerves. The movement reminded him of his forgotten cigarette. 

He dropped the nearly burned-out butt and crushed it under his toe, deciding to return to the shop before Ken stormed out here demanding to know what was taking so long. Half-way back to the door, he heard a rustle behind him and started to turn, curious as to what it was. He caught a blur of red, green and white out of the corner of his eye shortly before another body crashed into his, sending them into the side of Koneko. 

"Well, well, well. I certainly didn't expect to find _this _in the trash," a familiar voice commented as he struggled to bring his weapon to bear. His attacker was one step ahead of him, though, clamping down on the wrist he wore his watch on and slamming it against the rough brick. Yohji winced when he heard something crack but continued fighting until his opponent managed to force his arm up between his body and the wall behind him, effectively pinning him. He stared hatefully into smirking blue eyes. 

"Schwarz!" he spat. The foreign assassin just raised an eyebrow, easily holding Yohji against the wall as he tried to wriggle his arm free. 

"We do have names, you know." He pushed against Yohji's elbow, forcing the trapped arm higher and smirked again when his captive winced. "You can rub that arm raw on the brick if you want, Kudou, but it won't do you any good. Keep trying to get it free and you might even break it." He pushed again, demonstrating his point, and Yohji forced himself to calm down for a moment, trying to decide what he should do. 

"Hm...someone's gotten you all hot and bothered for me," the Schwarz member--Schuldich, was it?--suddenly commented, shifting to get closer. He forced a knee between Yohji's legs and up against the half-hard bulge in his slacks. Yohji's jaw nearly dropped in shock, but thankfully his anger rose to the rescue before he made an idiot out of himself. 

"Get off me," he hissed, exploding into motion again. His right arm protested but he ignored it, desperate to get away from his enemy who was currently rubbing his thigh against a certain part of Yohji's anatomy in a very suggestive--and distracting--manner. "I'm a man, damnit! Play your sick mind games with someone else!" 

"Oh really?" Schuldich leaned closer, his wild red hair falling down to frame Yohji's face, tickling his temples. The blonde man turned his head away with a snarl then immediately regretted it when he felt lips hovering above the sensitive skin below his ear. The feeling was just light enough to send a thrill through him, but ultimately pissed him off further. 

"Now, let's see who you were fantasizing about..." Schuldich went on, easily brushing past his victim's defenses to sift through his thoughts. "Ooo, a mystery lover. How erotic." He easily avoided Yohji's attempt at a head-butt, continuing to keep him pressed up against the wall. "And a _man _no less..."

"Damnit, get out of my head!" 

With a nasty smirk, Schuldich jerked on Yohji's trapped arm, sending a streak of pain shooting up to the shoulder joint and silencing his captive with a gasp. As Yohji blinked dazedly, trying to clear the stars that had exploded across his vision, Schuldich ducked his head again to nuzzle at his neck. Every muscle in Yohji's body froze when the German suddenly licked a line from his collarbone straight up to his ear. 

"What's the matter, Kudou? Afraid your little wet dream might mean something?" He purred his words just behind Yohji's ear, the combination of his voice and the action sending a shiver down his victim's spine. He could feel the torment inside Yohji's head and smirked. "Afraid you might _like_ this?" Lips moving over the upper curve of cartilage, Schuldich intended to tease the man a bit more with this new weak spot he'd found, but the feel of another mind approaching made him pause. The shop's back door opened a moment later and a familiar blond head poked out into the alley. 

"Yohji-kun, Ken-kun said--" Omi broke off, eyes widening. Yohji immediately snapped out of his daze to shout, "Omi, get--" However, his warning was cut off when Schuldich pulled away abruptly and punched him in the stomach. The Weiß assassin doubled over, cradling his aching arm against his stomach and coughing. 

"If he wants to hear what I've got to say, he'll keep his mouth shut," the redhead smirked. 

Omi was torn, his gaze flickering to Yohji in concern, then back at their enemy. He finally stepped away from the door, letting it fall shut. 

"What do you want?" he asked, defeated but still wary. 

"Your little dalliances were nearly discovered the other day. If you plan on continuing, you'd better be more secretive about it or Crawford will easily pick it out of the future." 

"Did he--did Nagi send you?" Omi pressed, eyes lighting up a little. Schuldich snickered. 

"I wouldn't be here warning you unless he had. But if you get caught, he's the one who will catch the fall." The German's eyes slid to Yohji, who had nearly recovered. "Although you might be facing sentence soon." 

Yohji straightened and lunged forward, his good hand swinging out to connect with the man's chin. Schuldich didn't even flinch. Instead, he flicked out his tongue to taste the blood on his now-split lip and grinned. 

"I think I like you, Kudou," he smirked, then vanished. 

A tense silence took Schuldich's place in the alley. Omi watched Yohji with wide eyes, aware that something had been going on before he arrived, something that had his friend shaken up and trembling. There was a dangerous light in the man's eyes, something akin to irrational, aimless fury. Omi was afraid to break the silence because he didn't want Yohji's wrath directed at him, especially after Schuldich's visit had revealed his secret. Fortunately--or rather unfortunately, Omi thought to himself--he didn't have to wait long for Yohji to snap out of his daze. Narrowed green eyes flashed over sunglasses and then Yohji was stalking towards his smaller friend. In that moment, Omi finally understood how a rabbit must feel, frozen in fear, only able to watch as the wolf closes the distance to snap his jaws in the killing blow. 

But there was no crack of bone that heralded death here. Yohji just reached past Omi to the knob and swung the back door open. 

"Inside," he said shortly. Omi glanced up with wide, worried eyes but from this angle, all he saw was the reflection of their surroundings in Yohji's mirrored sunglasses. 

"Yohji-kun--"

"_Inside_," Yohji repeated with the tone of voice that clearly stated he did not like repeating himself. Omi hurried through the doorway, now even more concerned. Was Yohji planning on taking him into the shop and telling the others what had happened? What Omi had been hiding? He balked at the entrance into the shop, pale and clammy hands shaking. Aya had been furious when he found out Omi's heredity, but consorting with a rival assassin who worked for the man Aya hated most! And Ken... Omi wasn't sure if he would be just as furious as his other teammates or if he would stand in the background, eyes brimming with disappointment. Omi felt tears prick the corners of his eyes as he started to turn back to Yohji, to beg for at least a little more time. A hand fell ominously on his shoulder, keeping him facing straight ahead. 

"Drop off your apron and get your coat," came the order before Yohji gave him the slight push that sent him through the door. 

Ken glanced up when they entered, fixing them with a curious, questioning look. Omi ducked his head and moved to the chair he'd dropped his coat on, exchanging it with his apron. Yohji strode to the counter and tossed his own apron in the seat he had occupied before his break, then moved towards the door, tan coat hanging over one arm. Omi shuffled dutifully after him. 

"Hey, wait, where are you guys going?" Ken spoke up suddenly. 

"Lunch," Yohji returned briskly. "Aya should be in soon." Before Ken could put up a real argument, he ushered Omi out of the shop and shut the door behind them. The glass rattled and the bell clanged against the wood from the overzealous tug he gave it, but Yohji just kept walking. His distracted, long strides meant Omi had to practically jog to keep up, but he was too afraid to say anything lest that be the final bit of straw that broke the camel's back. Hands buried in his pockets, shoulders hunched under his coat, Omi cast a couple wary glances up at Yohji, but the man's profile revealed nothing, other than he was deeply lost in his thoughts. 

That bastard. That ever-smirking, arrogant bastard. His shoulder ached from being strained in a direction it was not meant to go and Yohji was certain if he pushed up the sleeve of his shirt, he'd see scratches from the bricks he had been pinned against. He bristled again, remembering Schuldich's last remark. The way he had cocked his hip to the side, pink tongue darting out to catch a drop of garnet blood welling up from the split on his lip. The suggestive twist to the corner of his lips, his eyes knowing and taunting Yohji with secrets he had pulled from Yohji's own head. How his thigh up against Yohji's crotch had been an unbearable reminder of the arousal that wouldn't go away. And he hadn't been able to do a damn thing the whole time. 

When Yohji stopped abruptly in front of a small bar, he was brimming with pent-up frustration and anger. The longer he stewed, the more high-strung he'd become. His grip on the door knob was white-knuckled as he gestured Omi to proceed him inside. Some well-endowed, scantily clad waitress appeared to show them to a table, but Yohji hardly paid attention to her, instead trying to get a grip on his emotions. There was a bigger problem here that had to be dealt with, but he needed to stay calm or he would take his irritation at Schuldich out on an unsuspecting Omi. 

When the beer he had ordered arrived, he drained nearly half the glass before digging in his coat pockets for his cigarettes. Omi, meanwhile, looked around and suddenly realized everyone in the bar was shooting him sly, suggestive glances. He inched his chair a little closer to Yohji's uneasily. He didn't want to be nearby if Yohji's temper broke free, but he standing down that particular demon was better than being eyed like a piece of meat for sale. 

"Yohji-kun, why is everyone staring at us?" he whispered. 

"Because normally I bring a full-grown woman in here, not a half-pint boy who looks like he stepped out of a shota-con film," was the reply, slightly muffled by the cigarette Yohji now had between his lips and was trying to light. Omi shot him a slightly wounded look. 

"Yohji-kun..." 

Finally, Yohji got the white stick lit and took a long drag, closing his eyes. Immediately, Schuldich's smirking image appeared, tugging along with it the feeling of the other man pressed up against him, pinning him to the wall. With a flash of horror, Yohji realized the memory was stirring a familiar heat deep in the pit of his stomach. He crushed down that thought as quickly as he could, then tried to force his hand to unclench from the fist it had formed. Glancing down, he saw small half-moon marks on his palms from where his nails had bit into his skin. He took a deep breath then raised his gaze to Omi, who was still looking around nervously. 

"So how long were you going to wait before you told us?" he spoke up, getting right to the point. Omi's cerulean eyes were filled with warring emotions, but guilt was definitely at the forefront. "Or were you even going to tell us you were sleeping with the enemy?" 

"It's not like that," Omi tried to explain but was cut off.

"Does he pay you? Are you their little spy now?" 

"Yohji-kun..." There was real hurt in the boy's eyes now, but in his growing anger, Yohji missed it. 

"What about Schuldich? Is he in on it too? Does he watch while you and that-that telekinetic freak--"

The crack of skin against skin echoed in the air between them. A couple glanced their way in surprise, but soon turned back to their own conversation. Everyone else seemed uninterested in the pair's business and left them alone. Yohji's cheek stung where Omi's hand had connected, but judging from the look on both of their faces, neither had expected such a response from the normally gentle assassin. Omi resumed his seat, gaze dropping to the side, but not before his companion had a chance to see the pain and frustration in those impossibly blue eyes. 

"After all we've been through, you can't even trust me enough to explain?" Omi asked quietly. Yohji fumbled with his cigarette as the glowing tip burned down closer to his fingers, then muttered a curse when he finally got it snubbed out in the ashtray. This was what he had been afraid of: losing his temper and lashing out. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling a pang of guilt when he looked again at Omi, who hadn't yet raised his head. 

/Way to go, Kudou,/ he thought bitterly. /If you wanted someone to yell at him, why didn't you just announce the situation to Aya. At least _he _might have left out biting personal remarks./ He sighed and reached for his cigarette pack again; before this was all over, he would be a chain-smoker for sure. 

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "It's just...a lot to take in at once. Even you have to admit what I heard was more than a little suspicious. And that bastard was there, messing with my head..." Omi had raised his head at the sound of the apology and watched, concerned, as Yohji continued trying to free a cigarette. His hands were shaking, though, making the job much more difficult than it should have been. Finally, he crushed the whole pack in his fist and threw it on the table. The white ball bounced off the wood and slid off over the edge. Yohji shot a look after it that would have incinerated several stores full of cigarettes, then rubbed tired eyes. 

"Go ahead," he went on. "Explain yourself." Had the line come from Aya, it would have been terse, cold and condemning. But seeing Yohji so shaken, so precariously balanced between uncontrollable anger and shameful regret at upsetting a friend, took away all edge from the statement. 

"Nagi and I met on the internet, without knowing the other's real identity. The first time we met, Weiß hadn't even faced Schwarz during a mission yet. But then, not too long after that, Nagi did some digging around for their employer and found out who Weiß was, or at least who the members were. The next time we met was the first time Schwarz ever faced Weiß and I was shocked to see him. But..." Yohji met Omi's gaze when he finally raised it from his lap, saw the determination there and also the worry. "I know what it looks like, Yohji-kun, but it's not about sex or manipulation or treachery, and it never has been. Schuldich didn't find out until a little later, but he never told Crawford."

"He's been protecting you?" Yohji asked suspiciously. More than the thought of Omi spending time with the enemy, he disliked the thought of a man of Schuldich's caliber having such an easy tool for blackmailing Weiß. Omi shook his head. 

"He's not doing this for us, more for himself. He said it was 'easier than dealing with a moping Nagi and a pissed off Brad'," he explained. "Nagi says he's funny like that."

"Are you planning on telling the others, now that I know?" Omi's eyes grew dark with thought at Yohji's words. 

"Aya-kun would kill me," he remarked quietly. "He'd say I was betraying Weiß..."

"Well he has a point, you know." Yohji held up a hand, stilling the protest about to fall from Omi's mouth. "I'm trusting you on this, Omi, and I'm going to believe that both of you have strictly good intentions for this. But you've put yourself in a tricky situation and you could be being used, without realizing it. I'm not running off to spread the news to everyone in Kritiker, so don't get all worked up just yet. I'm just saying they could be right. Whether or not you tell them is your choice, but as your teammates, they have a right to know." 

Omi nodded, gaze dropping to his lap again as Yohji mulled over this new turn of events. He didn't trust anyone from Schwarz any farther than he could throw them--especially not that German asshole--so he still wasn't sure what the intentions of the other boy were. Even so, he was glad if anyone had to find out this way that it be him. Aya would have jumped to all the wrong conclusions and possibly run the poor boy through with his katana before Omi ever had a chance to explain. Ken would have been furious and betrayed and might have run off to exact revenge on the telekinetic for taking away their "innocent" Omi, which would have only made more trouble in the end. As Yohji was digesting all of this--and wishing he hadn't crumpled that pack of cigarettes--he had a sudden thought. 

"Are you careful?" he asked. 

"Of course!" Omi replied instantly, brightening at the chance to prove he wasn't a complete idiot. "We never meet anywhere that could be linked back to either of our teams, and I always have my weapons. Plus, Nagi says he's been trying to keep his team from getting suspicious by taking extra reconnaissance work from Takatori, giving him excuses to go out a lot." Yohji blinked, then chuckled because Omi had missed his real question. 

"I meant when you..." He trailed off, making a couple of obvious gestures with his hands, until Omi's eyes widened in realization. Immediately, pink suffused his cheeks. 

"We, um, we haven't--I mean, we've never--" Yohji stopped the stuttered explanation with a lazy wave of his hand, hiding his grin behind the mug of beer. He had only wanted to make sure they weren't going too fast, that Omi wasn't being caught up in sins of the flesh. Yohji had been in enough relationships with women to know how addictive, and distracting, sex could be; he could only assume it was the same when men shared their beds with other men. 

"Well, when you do," Yohji began, trying to pick the right words, "just...be careful and use the, ah, proper protection." Now _he_ was starting to blush; this was ridiculous! He cleared his throat and looked away, wishing the bar weren't so damn hot. He was a grown man! Talking about sex with a co-worker shouldn't be so embarrassing. While Omi couldn't get pregnant from these trysts, there were still other problems he could catch, and Yohji had just wanted Omi to be aware of that. 

/Ha, Yohji Kudou, instructor of safe sex,/ he thought wryly. /Yeah right./ He downed the last swallow of beer and stood, fishing money out to cover the cost of the drink and tip. Omi rose hesitantly, obviously still unsure if Yohji was angry with him or not. But as they stepped out of the bar, Yohji suddenly hooked an arm around Omi's neck and began ruffling his hair wildly. He heard a muffled squawk of dismay as the boy tried to free himself unsuccessfully, but Yohji hung on until he deemed Omi's hair thoroughly disheveled. At last, he let his companion go, grinning like an imp at the sight of Omi trying to peer through his tornado-swept hairdo. 

"Yohji-kun!" But Yohji could see a hint of a smile beginning to tease Omi's lips and knew things had been ironed out between them. He swung a friendly arm around Omi's shoulders, steering them down the sidewalk towards a delicious ramen shop he knew of. 

"C'mon, you're paying for lunch." 

"_Yohji-kun_!" 

They ate quickly, since Ken was still back in the shop, possibly by himself if Aya had not show up yet, but a few stores down from the Koneko, Omi snagged Yohji's coat sleeve and they halted under a tree. 

"Um...Yohji-kun, there was something I wanted to ask you..." Yohji frowned down at the top of Omi's head in puzzlement, as the boy kicked at a rock. What could he possibly need to know that he couldn't ask in the shop? Ken was going to be furious enough as it was; he'd probably throw one of his adorable tantrums when they went in about everybody always abandoning him at the shop. Yohji shook the thought off, trying to be serious. 

"Sure, Omi, shoot." 

"Um, well it's just that you seemed more upset that Nagi and I are enemies than the fact that we're two boys..." Omi raised his head, fixing Yohji with one of those wide-eyed, guileless stares that were impossible to lie to. Yohji sighed and adjusted his sunglasses, now grateful that Omi had asked him while they were out here, instead of in the shop. He had wondered when this question might arise, and might have been able to easily come up with an answer if not for his recent nighttime problem. Most men who wore the same playboy stereotype as he did were adamantly against the thought of two men together; on the other hand, most men who fit into that category didn't have regular sex dreams featuring men. 

"Let's just say I'm a very open man," he finally answered, eyes darting around them quickly to be sure there were no German telepaths lurking in the shadows, waiting to jump on that line. 

"Oh..it's just that--"

"I'm straight, Omi," he cut in flatly, "don't get me wrong. But I save my prejudices for the scum we take care of on missions." His smile carried no real mirth because neither joked about the people they killed. They took their missions seriously, each life was another strike against their already stained souls. But Yohji recognized the same glint in Omi's eyes when the boy grinned back and knew he understood. 

Suddenly there was a commotion from the store and a familiar roar of, "If you're not going to buy something, get out!" reached Omi and Yohji. The doors to the Koneko opened and a stream of girls trooped out, all wearing the same dejected expression. Luckily for the two florists, the girls all headed in the opposite direction and never noticed them cowering behind the tree they'd been talking under. 

"We'd better get inside before any more show up," Yohji pointed out. "I don't think Ken would appreciate us leaving him to deal with a grumpy Aya any longer than we already have." Omi nodded with a grin before they hurried down to the shop. 


	3. Part 2

"It's No Good"

by Beth Gulla

/.../ represents thoughts

... represents telepathy

**2**

"Abyssinian! Siberian!" Static greeted Yohji's calls. He resisted the urge to hurl his earpiece at the wall and instead glanced up the hall, muttering several curses. Where the hell were they? This wasn't supposed to be a hard mission! Just get in, take out the guards, maneuver Omi into the computer room so he could get the necessary data, then split up and get out. They were all supposed to check in during the various stages of this mission and, halfway out of the building, Yohji attempted to do this and found he couldn't reach anyone. He turned back to the door he stood in front of, finally deciding that if his teammates were still inside, they would at least be on their way out. However, the door refused to move when he pushed it, holding fast even when he gave it a small shove with his shoulder. An eerie chill crawled down Yohji's spine as he lifted his head to peer through the small window.

Standing a few feet back, on the other side of the door, was a boy only a few years younger than Omi. Even without the traditional Japanese school uniform, Yohji would have recognized that stance: hands held out in front as if pushing something away--or focusing an invisible force. The telekinetic's eyes were dark with concentration and it was obvious now why the door wouldn't budge.

/Damnit!/ he thought, hitting the metal in frustration. He turned away, reaching up to his ear to tap on his radio again.

"Is anyone still inside? I need another way out." When at first, only static returned his call, Yohji started to glance around, wary that more members of Schwarz would start appearing. He tried to recall the map of the building they had been shown before the mission, but he had only given it a cursory glance.

/Don't tell me I'm going to get stuck in here,/ he thought darkly. There was another burst of static in his ear and then--

"It's getting harder and harder to avoid these goons," Omi spoke up, sounding out of breath. "They had more back-up than we planned on. Abyssinian and Siberian have already pulled out, but I'm on my way to your position, Balinese." Relief washed through Yohji before he remembered one small problem.

"Wait, Bombay--" But his fellow assassin had already switched off his radio. "Shit!" Yohji hit the door again, glancing through the glass at the boy on the other side. He stood in the same place as before, eyes still narrowed in concentration. What was going to happen when Omi showed up and they saw each other? Omi hadn't mentioned how they dealt with this kind of problem the other day, and Yohji wasn't entire optimistic about the boy's reaction. He retreated back down the hall a few feet, one hand fiddling anxiously with the release on his watch. Omi had mentioned back-up guards, which meant they might have company at any moment. He glanced over his shoulder at the unmoving door, then pinched the bridge of his nose.

/This is so fucked up.../

The thudding of sneakers on the metal floor had him pull out a stretch of wire, just in case, but it was only Omi who came running around the corner. His cheeks where flushed and his eyes sparkled with mischief; he was well into assassin mode.

"Yohji-kun, why didn't you just go through the door?" Omi said in exasperation, walking past the man and raising a hand to push the door. He froze when he caught sight of who was on the other side. Nagi looked similarly stunned. Yohji opened his mouth to suggest they find another way out but a creak in the vent overhead made him pause. He raised his head and over the rim of his sunglasses, he thought he saw the metal bend ever-so-slightly, as if someone inside the vent had shifted their weight. That was the only warning he had before the grate above Omi's head swung open and a figure dropped down with a screech.

"Omi!"

Yohji's wire went flying out to tangle around their attacker but in that split-second, he knew he would be too late. There was a blur of movement, he tensed for the cry of pain, but it never came. Something collided with his legs, almost toppling him over and he looked down in shock to see Omi, holding his head rather dazedly. Raising his gaze again, Yohji wasn't surprised to see it was the one-eyed Irishman, Farfarello, he was facing off against. The albino assassin straightened from his crouch, eyes locked on Omi hungrily, but fortunately Yohji's wire had managed to bind his arms to his sides. Farfarello strained and the wire bit into his skin, causing rivulets of blood to trail down his skin, but he hardly seemed to notice as he took a step forward.

Yohji shook off his momentary shock at Omi's near-miss and hauled his companion to his feet.

"Go!" he ordered, giving him a shove. Omi stumbled a few steps down the hall then turned back, worried gaze locking on the small window in the doorway. Yohji backed after him, keeping a wary eye on Farfarello, who still seemed more concerned with getting out of his wire bonds than actually chasing them down. It wasn't hard to guess what had saved Omi's life. No one had been standing there to push him out of the way, but _something_ had, and there weren't many people capable of such a feat. They didn't have time to stand around pondering this, though, especially not if there were other problems running around the building looking for them, besides Schwarz.

"Move it, Bombay!" Yohji barked and was relieved when his comrade finally turned and dashed back the way he had come. Yohji spared only a moment to string together a loose web of wire that would at least slow any pursuers down before hurrying after him.

Farfarello continued to strain against his bonds until Nagi moved through the door to help him. The boy's eyes were dark and accusing as he effortlessly stripped away the wire with unseen hands.

"You nearly hurt him," he said.

"So?" A pale eyebrow lifted impassively.

"Our orders were to delay, not kill!" Nagi snapped.

"It's not my fault if they move too slowly," Farfarello replied, unconcerned. He started towards the door Nagi had just walked through. "Besides, _something _kept him safe..." Nagi fumed silently at the Irish's back, then made an irritated gesture at Yohji's web. The strands of wire ripped apart with discordant twangs.

Temper, temper...

"Shut up, Schuldich." A familiar nasal chuckle grated on his already strained nerves. "I said shut-up!"

"There's no need to get all pissy," Schuldich responded calmly, propping the door open and leaning against it, smirking. "Farf's not going to run off and tell Brad, so chill out."

"What do _you _care?"

"Let's just say I still have a few cards to play and I'd hate for the game to end so soon." Nagi's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Leave him alone or--"

"Or what?" Schuldich laughed outright at this. "I think I might just try something if only to see what you'd do." He rolled his eyes when his companion bristled. "Relax, he's not my type. Too young." Nagi just stalked past him without saying a word. "Geez, you're touchy tonight." Schuldich easily caught up to the younger boy with several long strides, and they made their way back towards their meeting place.

"Brad's going to be pissed that they got away so fast," Schuldich mused at length.

"Reiji Takatori will also be angry that they caused so much damage," Nagi commented quietly. The redhead muttered a curse before they lapsed into silence once more.

Yohji stood in Omi's bedroom, eyes raised to the ceiling as if looking for answers, when all he really wished for was a cigarette. Omi sat on his bed, head bowed as if awaiting execution. Neither had said a word to each other about the incident since they returned to the shop. When questioned by Aya about why they had taken so long getting out, Yohji smoothly stepped in when Omi faltered and explained they'd encountered interference. He didn't offer details and Aya--thankfully--didn't ask. The team had split up then, each going to their separate rooms, but Yohji had followed Omi back to his, intending on saying something.

He knew he should. He had it all right there on the tip of his tongue. "This is insanity, Omi. How can you plan on working like this, if every time we run into Schwarz you freeze up?" But for some reason, the words wouldn't come out, no matter how many times he turned them over in his head. Yohji half-suspected it was because of how Nagi had reacted. He had also locked up, snapping out of his daze only when Omi's life was threatened. And had Nagi not acted on that impulse, Omi would be dead, or at least seriously injured. Yohji had seen the movement in the vent in enough time to know they were about to be ambushed, but even his wire wouldn't have ensnared Farfarello in enough time to prevent a well-placed slash from one of the Irishman's many blades.

/Madness,/ he thought to himself, glancing down at Omi. /Utter madness./ With a sigh, he turned towards the door. It was pointless to stay if neither one of them was going to speak up. A tap on the window made him pause and turn back to see Omi lift his head. There was a moment of silence then another tap, as if a small pebble was bouncing off the glass. But the last time Yohji checked, small pebbles bouncing off second-story windows weren't a common occurrence in this town.

Omi rose and hurried to the window, pushing it open and leaning out. Yohji was about to ask what could possibly be so fascinating when realization dawned on him, just about the same time he overheard Omi whispering something about the fire escape. He took a step forward, intending to stop this nonsense before it went any further, and froze when a familiar face bobbed into view. Omi leaned further out the window to help the _levitating _young member of Schwarz into his room while Yohji stood there with his mouth hanging open.

It was one thing to know a telekinetic could move objects. It was entirely another to watch said telekinetic move _himself_, but it seemed even great powers had their catch. For no sooner had Nagi made it through the window than he leaned heavily on Omi's shoulder, barely able to stand up straight. Omi had his arms around the other boy's waist, supporting him with a worried frown.

"You should've gone around," he chided, but his tone was soft. It was a change from the sharp tone he used on his coworkers; Yohji's eyebrows shot up in surprise but neither was paying attention to him.

"This was easier," Nagi replied, a reassuring half-smile flickering across his lips. He winced abruptly and started to turn away, but Omi stopped him, tilting his head into the light and uttering a soft gasp at the sight of the ugly bruise marring Nagi's left cheek.

"Reiji Takatori needed a place to vent his rage and I didn't move fast enough," the Schwarz assassin muttered. He glanced suddenly at Omi. "Were you hurt?"

"No, he missed me." Omi smiled shyly. "Thanks." Again, an answering smile was drawn out of Nagi. Yohji thought he had been sucked into a shoujou manga; anymore saccharine-sweet looks and he was going to wind up with diabetes. Watching them, though, he found he couldn't quite muster the anger he knew he should be feeling.

/How do I get into these messes?/ he thought, rolling his eyes at his own weakness. He turned to leave.

"At least lock your door," he tossed over his shoulder. "I don't feel like waking up to find Ken or Aya walked in on you two." Halfway out the door, he was still shaking his head. "God, I need a cigarette."

Omi turned to Nagi once his comrade was gone, but the younger boy, despite his weariness, seemed ready to bolt back through the window. His tense gaze was riveted on the closed door.

"Don't worry," Omi reassured. "Yohji's not going to tell. We already talked about it."

"He knew?"

"He found out the day Schuldich came by to deliver your message." Blonde brows furrowed over cerulean eyes in concern. "Are things still okay at your end?" Nagi sighed.

"Crawford had a vision about us, but Schuldich managed to intercept it somehow," he explained. "He didn't tell me how, but he said Crawford won't remember having it, let alone any of the details. So we're safe."

"For now," Omi added. His brow was still wrinkled with worry.

He was grateful that Schuldich had been covering for Nagi so far, but the deeper he got involved, the more Omi's instinctive warning sirens went off. He knew Yohji was still worried about this "relationship", but Omi had meant it when he said, at the bar, that they were always careful. He shook off his thoughts when Nagi started to sag more heavily on Omi's shoulder, his eyes drooping.

"Are you okay?" Omi asked worriedly.

"Yeah," Nagi replied, "just really tired. It happens sometimes when I overexert myself." He tried to protest as Omi fell into "mothering" mode, but his companion just sat him down on the bed and dug around in his bureau for an extra pair of pajamas. When he pulled them out, he paused to smile nostalgically, for they were the same set he had let Nagi borrow to only other time he had spent the night in Omi's room. But he couldn't get lost in that memory now. In fact, when he turned to hand them to Nagi, he saw the boy swaying slightly.

"Are you going to be able to get into these?" Nagi snatched the clothes with an affronted look, but Omi just grinned and turned away, giving him some privacy as he went to lock the door. He stayed facing the door until the sounds of cloth rustling had stopped and then cautiously glanced over his shoulder, relieved to see that he wouldn't have to help Nagi get into the pajamas. The thought alone made him blush slightly as he returned to the bed, easing Nagi back on the mattress. He was already half-asleep and allowed himself to be moved around with no more than a drowsy murmur.

Omi changed into his own night clothes as quickly as he could before easing gently onto the bed. He lay on his side so he could watch Nagi for a moment or two, just observing the pale profile presented to him. They had shared Omi's bed once before, and even though both that time and this one had purely innocent intentions, Omi still felt his cheeks burning. Nagi seemed to have immediately fallen into a deep sleep as his breathing had already evened out, so Omi risked scooting a little closer. They hadn't been very physically affectionate because Nagi seemed a bit skittish about that sort of thing, which led Omi to wonder what kind of childhood he had had. But they never spoke of their pasts, that was the unspoken rule. It was dangerous enough that they often complained about their "coworkers" when both knew the truth behind their jobs.

Omi allowed himself one more scant inch of movement closer--he didn't want Nagi to wake up with Omi wrapped around him and be traumatized--and then he closed his eyes

A well-known flustered laugh rolled over him, dissolving into breathless gasps as hands glided lower over sun-kissed skin. Hair like chocolate fell across eyes that were already squeezed shut, an expression between torture and pleasure washing over familiar features. There was a friction between their bodies as skin shifted against skin, a heat that made it impossible to let go, to stop touching. The gasps were turning into pants and urgent murmurs that sent shivers down his spine. And then, warm brown eyes snapped open, swirling with surprise and ecstasy and a cry of, "Yohji!"

Yohji tore out of the dream with enough force that his sheets went flying off the end of his bed. His put a hand to his chest, feeling his heart race uncontrollably, then ran his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, trying to calm his body down. After he had taken a few deep breaths and let them out slowly, another less pleasant feeling made itself known and he glanced down to see the stain on his boxers.

"Damnit!"

Yohji was by no means a morning person. Being woken up earlier than noon usually left him grumpy. Being woken up at--he shot a glare at the clock beside his bed--_9 am_ because of a fucking dream that he couldn't seem to shake, left him irritable and desiring to hit something. He climbed out of bed, grabbed some clothes and stalked out of his room, slamming the door behind him. Storming across the hall to the bathroom he and Omi shared, he shut that door forcefully as well, before dropping his clothes and stripping. Like most Japanese bathing rooms, the floor was solid linoleum except for a small portion by the door, where Yohji left his clothes to stay dry. There was no shower stall, just a hose with the shower head connected, and a drain in the center where the water ran out. On the other side of the small room was the traditional Japanese bathtub, but Yohji was in no mood to sink neck-deep in hot water and relax. He twisted the nozzle to cold and briskly hosed himself off.

Immediately, the dream resurfaced and Yohji cursed as he reached for the soap.

/Well at least the mystery is solved,/ he thought wryly. /Now what the hell do I do?/ He adjusted the temperature with a sour look when his fingers began to get numb, finally settling on lukewarm. He also noted, with growing resentment, that while the evidence of the dream was easily being washed away, the lingering heat and desire currently coiled at the bottom of his stomach, was not. /What a perfect fucking way to start the day./ He lifted his gaze to the ceiling. /Why did it have to be Ken?/

He could appreciate the athletic build, and Ken _was _too cute for his own good sometimes, but Yohji was still worried. He worked beside this man, shared meals with him, killed with him. Yohji couldn't just shake him off for a day or so until he could get his thoughts in order. He had to have Ken practically in his lap night and day while trying to figure out the depth of his feelings. That thought brought an interesting image to Yohji's mind that he immediately squashed, regretting for once that his libido was as lively as it was.

When he deemed himself clean enough, he turned the water off and snatched a towel off the rack, dying himself off quickly. He pulled on clean underwear and then the pants he'd grabbed, grateful that they were slacks and not skin-tight leather. He picked up his boxers very carefully and then crossed the hall to his room again. The door slammed behind him satisfyingly and he dropped the boxers in the hamper with a frown.

/Now, where are my cigarettes?/ he grumbled. Something clicked off to the left, followed by the whisper of a breath of smoke being inhaled. It was a sound Yohji knew by heart from years of smoking. He turned very slowly, eyes widening when he took in Schuldich, perched on the windowsill behind his bed, Yohji's cigarette pack and lighter in one hand, and a lit cigarette between his lips. He tilted his head to the side and smirked.

Looking for these? He held up the pack tauntingly, but Yohji could only stand there, shocked speechless.

"How-how the hell did you get in here?!" he demanded. Schuldich rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Please, Kudou, I'm an assassin. I've been trained to infiltrate much more dangerous buildings than your precious flowershop." One slender red eyebrow lifted, his expression mocking. "Rough morning?" Those blue eyes were alight with amusement. Schuldich knew exactly why he was pissed off and that did not bode well for Yohji.

"Get the fuck out of my room right now," Yohji ordered, trying to maintain composure. His thoughts were on his watch which--thankfully--he hadn't taken off before bed last night. Without his gloves on it was almost masochistic to think of pulling the wire out, but if his life was in danger, Yohji was willing to put up with the lacerations he'd get.

"Oh calm down, I'm not here to kill you," Schuldich muttered, waving a hand lazily. He took a pointed drag off the cigarette he held, noting how Yohji's eyes darted to the nicotine stick quickly before fixing again on him.

"Like I'm supposed to believe that!" Yohji snapped. "Why the fuck else would you be here?"

"I'm so glad you asked," Schuldich purred, flicking the only half-smoked cigarette out the window. He uncoiled from his seat on the windowsill like a snake, stepping over the corner of the bed and starting towards Yohji, who immediately decided he didn't like the look in the other man's eyes. It was too much like the other day and that thought immediately set him on edge.

"I'm serious, Schuldich. Get out." The redhead paused a few steps away, watching him contemplatively. He put his hand on his hip and smirked.

"We both know that wire would slice your fingers to ribbons, without your gloves," he pointed out.

"I'm willing to take that chance," Yohji said through clenched teeth.

But I'd miss the opportunity to put those hands to good use... As Schuldich's mind brushed his, Yohji saw again the spark of desire in those laughing eyes. But he wasn't in the mood. He had just realized this strange new lust for a man were directed at _his friend_ and he did not want to deal with Schuldich's unexplainable and unnerving desire to get him in bed.

Yohji lunged and got two fistfuls of Schuldich's jacket, fully intending on swinging him around and throwing him out the window he'd materialized in, but the telepath just smiled and rocked back on his heels, using Yohji's momentum against him. Yohji stumbled the extra couple of steps, falling into Schuldich's sway backwards and then they were falling as their legs collided with the bed. Yohji ended up straddling Schuldich and fought back a growl of irritation when Schuldich's amused grin broadened.

"You want top?" the telepath asked. "We may have to fight for that." Yohji caught the subtle warning and moved with Schuldich when the man suddenly rolled them. As soon as Yohji felt his back touch the mattress, he was shoving with one elbow and continuing the roll, ending up on top once again as his shoulder hit the wall. He had a momentary flash of confusion when Schuldich's smirk grew, before the redhead used his foot that was still on the floor to shove Yohji over his shoulder, so that he was flat on his back and no longer laying parallel to the mattress. In a blur, Schuldich climbed back up on top, pinning his arms to his sides with his knees and straddling Yohji's waist with a triumphant smile.

"You're more fun than I thought," he remarked, bracing himself with his hands on either side of Yohji's head. Yohji just glared, wriggling his arms in vain; they were quite thoroughly stuck to his sides.

"I'm _not _in the mood, Schuldich." He tried to project this idea very strongly, wondering if Schuldich would get the hint. But his antagonist just leered down at him and stretched out so that he was draped across Yohji's body, using his weight to keep him down.

"Oh, I'm not so sure about that..." Schuldich's hand slid slowly down the line of Yohji's side, fanning out over his hip, his thumb dangerously close to Yohji's crotch and the stirring bulge that lay there. Yohji bucked, attempting to throw Schuldich off him, but the bastard was too evenly settled to upset his center of balance. He twisted to free his arms but Schuldich had merely shifted from holding him with his knees to using his elbows. Yohji almost thought he had worked one hand free--though not enough to do any good--when his fingers brushed something cold and metallic. His surprise was short-lived, though, because the sensation was immediately blocked out by a tongue curling into the well of his ear. The quick, wet brush forced a shiver down Yohji's spine and devoured the protest he wanted to voice.

You're such a slut, Kudou. Schuldich's voice was a confident, low purr in the back of his mind. He nudged aside a strand of honey-brown hair with his nose and nipped at the lobe, grinning when Yohji's eyes fell closed. He shifted to move his mouth lower, intending on leaving a very visible mark on that cream column of throat when a familiar click and pressure against the small of his back made him freeze. Schuldich's gaze snapped up to meet Yohji's dead-serious expression.

"Allow me to repeat myself," the pinned man said slowly. "Get. Off."

Schuldich's expression closed down in a tight-lipped glare but he nonetheless eased off the bed and took a step back, eyes darting to his gun, which Yohji now had pointed at him. The Weiß assassin stood as well, the gun held in a steady, two-handed grip, the aim never wavering from Schuldich's heart.

"Thank you," Yohji went on, his thin smile just barely polite. "Now, get the fuck out of my room before I have to use more _forceful _means to persuade you." The skin around Schuldich's eyes tightened, but this was the only sign of his anger he allowed to show. As he moved towards the window again, giving Yohji a wide berth and keeping his hands up to show he wasn't going to try anything stupid, Yohji moved with him, always staying opposite with the gun between them. The redhead tossed one last irritated look over his shoulder before crouching on the windowsill and then leaping out. Yohji waited a moment or two before cautiously approaching the window and peering out. He saw the German stalking down the alley and breathed a small sigh of relief.

A sudden raucous banging on the door down the hall nearly made him shoot a hole in his floor. Yohji very slowly slid the safety back on, shoved the gun in the band of his pants behind his back, and hurried out into the hall to see what was going on.

Omi opened his eyes slowly, blinking back the normal morning bleariness from his vision and focusing on the mess of brown hair on the pillow opposite of him. He grinned slightly when he realized he was looking at the back of Nagi's head and wondered if the other boy was still asleep. As if he had heard his thoughts, Nagi rolled over lazily, bringing them almost nose-to-nose quiet suddenly. Omi blinked again and then was surprised to see a faint bit of pink blossoming on Nagi's cheeks as he scooted back a little, giving Omi some space.

"Morning," Omi murmured.

"Morning," Nagi echoed. His hair was adorably mussed from sleep, no longer laying straight but instead sort of swirled around. Omi privately thought it looked almost like his did when he first rolled out of bed. Seeing Nagi like this, so normal and not at all what he would imagine a deadly enemy to be like, always reminded Omi of the first time they had met outside the internet. Just two boys nervously peeking around shelves in the library, trying to spot someone they had never seen before. He reached out absent-mindedly and straightened a truly unruly section of Nagi's hair, causing the boy's blush to deepen. He was so unusually shy when it was just the two of them like this; it made Omi's heart swell with fierce pride that he could make Nagi open up and leave that aloof, uncaring shell behind.

Omi knew Nagi was watching him closely so he moved very slowly, letting his hand drift from Nagi's hair, down his arm, to lightly rest against his waist. Not sensing any tension yet, Omi took it a little further, tugging a little with his hand to pull Nagi closer, to about where they were when Nagi first rolled over. The telekinetic's eyes were wide with uncertainty, but there was also trust there in those dark blue eyes. Omi's heart was racing, and he was pretty sure Nagi's was as well, but allowed himself to go with the moment, leaning forward. Their noses brushed and Nagi closed his eyes, tensing in anticipation as their mouths drifted even closer, lips just barely brushing--

"Oiiiii! Omi! Rise and shine!" A heavy hand landed on the door several times, simultaneous with the shout, and Omi jerked back in shock, nearly falling off the bed in the process. He heard the bedside table rattle and the lamp went tumbling to the carpet, evidence that Nagi had also been shaken by Ken's sudden wake-up call. But the thudding in Omi's chest changed to a different degree when his brain very loudly pointed out who was _outside_ his room and who he had _inside_.

"Omi, come on," Ken continued in his best wheedling tone after a couple more hits against his door that sounded more like sledgehammer blows than knocks. "I've got a game to get to and Aya's getting pissy down in the shop by himself."

Omi's mind spun crazily, trying to think of what to do. If he opened his door, even a crack, he knew Ken would invite himself in, and he couldn't tell him to stay outside because that would look suspicious. Nagi was scrambling for his clothes, yanking on his jacket without having taking off the borrowed t-shirt, and Omi opened his mouth to holler at Ken but someone beat him to it.

"_Ken!_" Yohji's shout was needlessly loud, and sounded a bit harried, but Nagi and Omi both froze, trying to hear what was going on in the hallway.

Ken frowned as his friend practically exploded out of his room to reach Ken's side. The playboy had his lazy smile on, but the tousled state of his hair and state of dress suggested he had been in a great hurry to get out into the hall.

"Yohji," Ken greeted, tone uncertain. "Didn't expect to see you up so early." Yohji waved his hand in a manner _he _clearly thought explained everything and forced an easy grin.

"Hey, don't worry about Omi, I'll kick him out of bed," he said. "I'm up, after all, and you've got a game to catch. Wouldn't want to keep the kids waiting, right?" Ken's frown grew. Yohji was giving him one of those looks that usually meant something suspicious was going on. But before he could ask, he heard a bit of rustling from inside the room and then Omi cheerily called out, "I'm awake, Ken-kun! Thanks!" Oddly enough, Omi's brightness also sounded forced but after giving Yohji a long, hard look he finally shook his head, giving in.

"Fine, I'll see you guys later," he said, heading down the stairs.

Yohji waited until even the sound of his feet on the steps had faded away, then turned to Omi's door, where a very worried pair of blue eyes was now peering out through a tiny crack. After everything else that had happened that morning, Yohji was wound tight enough to snap but when he raised a hand to shake his finger at Omi, the words died in his throat. He stood there a moment more, struggling to come up with _something_, then finally tossed his hands up with a frustrated growl and stormed back to his room.

Omi was startled when he saw a flash of black shoved in the back of Yohji's pants, but the man was gone too quickly before he could ask why Yohji suddenly had a gun. He closed and relocked the door with a low sigh of relief, then turned back around to find Nagi had finally managed to get the right clothes on in the right order. He shuffled back to the bed, head ducked somewhat sheepishly.

"Sorry about that..."

"It's fine," Nagi responded, then his smile faded somewhat. "I have to go. Schuldich's waiting for me." Omi nodded and they stood there a moment more, an awkward silence following between them as both recalled what had nearly happened before Ken interrupted them. Omi was the first to break the silence.

"I'm glad you came." Nagi glanced at the floor, shrugging and starting to mumble something and in that moment, Omi decided not to let his chance slip by. He crossed the distance between them, touching Nagi's cheek with a shaking hand and completed the kiss they had lost only moments ago.

For a second time their lips brushed and a thrill immediately shot down Omi's spine, making everything tingle. He increased the pressure, his other hand raising to cup Nagi's face, and felt the answering shiver that ran through Nagi. He smelled like peppermint for some reason and his lips were a little dry but warm and it was absolute heaven for Omi. When he finally pulled away, he felt like he was trying to separate a piece of himself. He wanted to pull Nagi closer, to press their moths together again until his lips grew bolder and melted with more urgency, and dared to wander across smooth, pale skin. But Omi knew they didn't have time so he settled for reaching down to grab Nagi's hand and give it a light squeeze, hoping it would convey what he couldn't find the right words for. His worry was eased with Nagi's small, understanding smile. He released the other boy's hand, allowing him to back towards the window.

"Oh for fuck's sake, you reek of sugar," came a nasal voice from the ground, sounding a bit surly. "Tighten your shields before I get a cavity..." Omi waited until Nagi had carefully climbed out of the window and dropped out of sight and then raised a hand to his forehead, flushing brightly at the thought of what he had just dared. But, remembering Aya waiting downstairs, he shook himself forcefully out of his thoughts and hurried to get changed.

/Hopefully I won't make an idiot of myself by drifting off into daydreams every five minutes,/ he thought fervently. It was bad enough when Yohji teased him about surfing the internet for porn, but he could not image what comments Yohji might have prepared in case he caught his coworker out of earshot of Aya.


	4. Part 3

"It's No Good"

by Beth Gulla

/.../ represents thoughts

~...~ represents telepathy

  


  


**3**

Yohji slipped away from his current dance partner with a regretful smile and headed towards the bar, easily making his way through the crowd. He reached the counter and managed to signal the tender for a beer, then turned to survey the club while he waited for his order. A slow grin spread across his face. 

_This _was heaven. Sitting in his room, smoking and mulling over his predicament with Ken was only driving him mad, but here, he was in his element. He could relax, flirt with the ladies, maybe try to figure out what he was going to do about Ken. His drink arrived and he took a large swallow, letting his gaze drift across the dance floor lit by flashing colored lights. 

Matters had not beenweird, per se, since that morning when he woke up and realized who his dream lover was, but they hadn't been exactly normal either. Yohji often found himself staring at Ken and wondering what it would be like to actually lay him out on a bed and do the things he dreamed about. His body--or a certain part of it, anyway--seemed to be in perfect agreement with this idea, but his conscience had other ideas. 

Yohji was worried about how Ken would react if he approached him. For all intents and purposes, Ken seemed to be your average boy-next-door, with the cute, easy smile, a ready laugh and innocent mind. Innocent to a point, obviously, because Ken had shed just as much blood as any of them and did so a lot closer to the target than Yohji preferred. As for sexual orientation, the only evidence of which team Ken batted for was the Yuriko girl, whom Ken had been absolutely smitten with. Yohji had been the one to give Ken the lecture, and he had been furious with Aya and Omi for forcing him to. He wished nothing more than to save Ken from this mess. Omi had been practically born into it, Aya and himself had stained their souls with time, but Ken still maintained a bit of light and hope. Yohji had a feeling it had to do with the kids he coached, and he was happy that Ken had found something to take his mind off the guilt that seemed to swallow all of them so often. 

Yohji downed another swig of beer, thinking of the tattoo on his arm and the constant guilt that plagued him. He didn't want to ruin the friendship he had with Ken by attempting to bed him. He was terrified of the possibility that Ken might be one of those guys who couldn't accept the thought of two men together and wouldn't have anything to do with him anymore. It would tear Weiss apart and Yohji couldn't risk that. Kritiker was a tricky employer and if one of their best assassin groups suddenly split, they might just decide they didn't want rogue members wandering the streets with Kritiker information. 

Of course, there was always the chance that Ken might be open to such an idea and might reciprocate the feelings Yohji had for him 

Shaking his head, Yohji set the empty beer bottle on the counter and slipped away from the bar, moving back into the crowd. The woman he had been dancing with before was gone, probably off with some other man, but he wasn't too concerned. He hadn't come here to pick up a date, he had just come to enjoy himself and hopefully sort out some of the mess in his head. The swaying mass of bodies welcomed him eagerly, sorting him towards the middle somewhere before he found enough space to actually move. He closed his eyes and let the music wash over him, moving lithely to the beat. 

"This must be my lucky night," a nasal voice purred in his ear as a body suddenly materialized behind him. Arms snaked around his waist and teeth nipped at his neck while Yohji put two and two together.

"Schuldich!" he growled, struggling to break out of the man's hold. He glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowing at the smirk plastered across his stalker's face. 

"Happy to see me?" Schuldich doubled over with a soft grunt when Yohji elbowed him in the stomach, freeing himself. The Weiss assassin put a few feet of space between them while Schuldich recovered. When he finally straightened, the redhead looked less than pleased. 

"I thought I told you to leave me the hell alone," Yohji said, having to raise his voice to be heard over the bass. Like oil, Schuldich's smirk oozed back into his expression. 

"I don't take no' very well as an answer," he replied. 

"Well get used to it," Yohji stated flatly. "I'm not interested." He turned to leave. 

"Afraid of being sexually attracted to a man, Kudou? I think it's a little late for that." Yohji could practically hear the sneer in Schuldich's tone, but he forced himself to keep walking. He could feel Schuldich's presence behind him, dogging his footsteps. 

"Are you even aware that we're enemies?" Yohji suddenly hissed, rounding on his follower. "You were protecting our target!"

"And now he's dead, so what's the problem?" 

"We're still on opposite sides, Schuldich. I'm not going to sleep you when you could just be trying to find out about Weiss." 

~I could find out whatever I wanted to know without fucking you, Kudou. This has nothing to do with Weiss and Schwarz.~ Yohji recoiled a step, uncomfortable at how easily Schuldich could sneak into his mind, how close he could get to Yohji's secrets. He blinked as Schuldich's form blurred--a sign that he was moving with that unnatural speed of his--and then he was pressed up against Yohji, lips tantalizingly close to the corner of Yohji's mouth. 

"Just admit it; you want to get laid." His words vibrated across Yohji's lips and straight down to his groin. Schuldich's hand was at his lower back, holding their bodies tightly together, and when Schuldich turned his head, their lips brushed; Yohji shivered unwillingly. ~Shiest, you're easy~ Despite the flash of outrage this provoked, the hand at his back slid lower. 

"Damnit!" Yohji tore himself away, furious at the bulge he could feel hardening in his leather pants, but unwilling to give in to Schuldich. He was especially irritated by the comment about being easy. 

~Don't tell me you've never treated women this way, Kudou,~ Schuldich mocked. ~You're a playboy. Your only problem is, you won't let yourself get played.~ Yohji's eyes flashed dangerously. 

"I am _not_ interested in you." He turned on his heel and stalked out of the club. 

He tried to slam the door behind him, but at the last second he heard it bang open again. A hand grabbed his arm but as he was spun around, he swung his fist. Schuldich caught it, used it to yank Yohji forward, and then their mouths were crashing together, Schuldich's tongue sweeping past Yohji's snarl of surprise and invading far too easily. Schuldich's momentum sent them slamming into something hard and metal that Yohji realized was a car when he was bent back over the hood. He continued to struggle, breaking the kiss when he turned his head and growling when Schuldich bent to nip at his collarbone. 

"Why do you lie to yourself, Kudou?" Schuldich taunted. His hand cupped Yohji's crotch, giving a light squeeze and Yohji gasped, eyes falling closed involuntarily. "Your body wants this, you can't deny that." Yohji bit his lip to stifle a moan when the squeeze became a massage. A thousands reasons why he should be fighting raced through his mind.

/enemyassholehateyou_man_Schwarzdangerous--Ken!/

"Still thinking you want only one man?" Yohji's patience finally cracked. 

"You may think you can man-handle me into sleeping with you, but you're the last person on earth I'd pick if I chose to fuck a man," he snarled. A nasty look of jealousy crossed Schuldich's expression. 

"Well it's not like you'll ever have _him_, so why bother?" he snapped. A thought flashed in Yohji's head before he had a chance to stop it, but Schuldich caught it and actually looked surprised. "You think he's straight? You think that's it?" He chuckled: a low, cruel sound. "You have no idea, Kudou." He pushed his way into Yohji's mind again, ignoring the outraged cry, and then Yohji's world tilted sideways. He blinked and his vision changed, for he was no longer looking up at Schuldich outside the club. In fact, he couldn't even feel the car underneath him or his enemy pressed against him. 

_He was looking out of someone else's eyes: Ken's eyes. Was this a memory? It was daytime in the Koneko; Ken was sweeping up some cut flower petals and leaves, oblivious to Yohji suddenly sharing his head. With a start, Yohji saw himself, through Ken's eyes, flirting with a small group of older high school girls. It was a memory, then, because he recognized the trio from two days ago. Still confused, Yohji shared Ken's gaze as it drifted around the flower shop, finally landing on their eternally scowling leader. Aya had his hands buried potting soil as he attempted to repot a small flower bush. The sleeves of that hideous orange sweater were pushed up to his elbows so they wouldn't get dirty, and he had a fearsome look of concentration on his face. Briefly, those violet eyes flashed up once to lock onto the memory of Yohji, a frown appearing when he saw he was flirting. _

_Then Ken dropped his eyes to his sweeping with a sigh. _

_"Forget it, Hidaka," he muttered, so softly even Yohji had trouble hearing him. "Aya'd probably shun a guy like you if you told him you loved him."_

There was a heartbeat of utter silence and then the memory cracked and dissolved, leaving Yohji blinking stupidly up at Schuldich. The telepath frowned, staring hard at Yohji, then realized that his little trick had killed any bit of fun left in him. With a frustrated growl he shoved away from the car and stalked off, while Yohji just sagged against the hood, still in shock at what he had seen. 

Ken...lovedAya? Butbut he wasn't even supposed to like _men_! And now be did but _of course_, the one Ken wanted was their icy leader who forever had a stick up his ass. Yohji started down the street towards the Koneko in a daze, still turning these thoughts over and over in his head. 

By the time he reached home, he was well on his way into a smoldering anger. He had been frustrated for countless nights by dreams of an unknown male lover, who then turned out to be one of his close friends, who then turned out to be in love with their asshole of a leader. It was so fucking unfair, Yohji wanted to hit something. On top of all of that, he was being stalked by a bastard from a rival assassin group who treated Yohji like he was some slut, willing to jump into bed with anyone. He banged his way into the Koneko, not caring who might be sleeping at this hour, and stalked through the hall towards the stairs leading to top two floors. 

"Yohji?" 

Ken stood on the spiral staircase coming up from the basement, peering over the last few steps in concern. He had been downstairs on the mission room couch, watching a game, when the racket from the Koneko's metal shutters roused him to see what was going on. He frowned worriedly at Yohji's back when the man didn't say anything, then continued up the stairs until he was also on the landing. 

"What's wrong? Bad night at the club?" 

Yohji half-turned back, his expression masked by the shadows falling across his face. He could see Ken just fine, though, and the heartfelt concern in those puppy-brown eyes made him pause. What if Schuldich had simply created that memory out of jealous? How could he really know Ken? _Yohji _worked with him every day; certainly he would have noticed Ken eyeing Aya if that was really true. 

/God, he looks so good,/ Yohji thought and then he was bending his head to bring their mouths together clumsily. For a first kiss, there was surprisingly little reaction, which worried Yohji, but he raised a hand to Ken's cheek and tried to coax a response out of him. Ken abruptly jerked away, hand automatically rising to wipe at his mouth.

"Yohji! I'm a man!" He had tasted beer on Yohji's breath and wondered if maybe his friend was drunk. Yohji had never been known to come home in such a state before, but it was the only logical explanation Ken could come up with. 

"It wouldn't matter if it was Aya, though, would it?" Yohji snapped and silence fell between them. Ken's eyes were wide, not with confusion anymore, but fear. His jaw worked for a moment but no sound came out and Yohji just stared at him, his worst fears coming true. 

Schuldich hadn't lied. It hadn't been some trick to make Yohji sleep with him. What he had seen, the telepath had actually pulled from Ken's head. Yohji suddenly thought he would be sick and turned to go, one hand on the railing. 

"Wait! Yohji-" Ken broke off again, struggling to find the right words. 

"Just forget it, Ken," Yohji replied wearily. "Go back to your game." 

"Youyou won't tell him, will you?" 

Yohji closed his eyes, grateful that his back was to Ken so he couldn't see the pain that crossed Yohji's expression. He took a deep breath and tried to steady his voice before he spoke, so it wouldn't betray any emotion. 

"No, I won't say anything." He raised a foot that felt like lead and slowly started up the stairs. 

"How did-"

"You're missing the game," Yohji said shortly and didn't look back even when he had reached the top of the stairs and was out of Ken's sight. He sagged against his door, pausing with his hand on the knob, and squeezed his eyes shut against frustrated tears. He prayed Ken would just turn around, go back down that spiral staircase, and finish watching the soccer match because if he followed Yohji up here and tried to talk things out, Yohji wasn't sure what he would do. He let himself into his room, then closed the door and leaned against it, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling. 

Ken's room was above his. Yohji's lips curled in a soundless snarl and he crossed briskly to the window, looking out at the city. His right hand rose of its own accord to trace the tattoo inked into his arm. 

_When you gonna learn?_

"Never." 

* * *

Schuldich was a confident man. Actually, Schuldich was an extremely arrogant man who, due in some part to his natural ability to read and control minds, always felt in command of whatever situation he was in. When Schuldich developed one of his intricate plans for mischief and mayhem, it was certain not to fail, and in the end, Schuldich always got what he wanted. Which was why when things turned out contrary to the norm--and thus, contrary to Schudich's plans and wishes--Schuldich was understandably upset. That mess with Takatori's daughter Ouka was a perfect example. Furious that his little game with Weiss had been destroyed and then humiliated by having to accept a beating from a mundane lowlife like Takatori, Schuldich had nursed his bruises in dark solitude. 

He had stalked around the mansion Schwarz owned like a caged tiger, lashing out at anyone who tried to talk to him. Crawford, of course, paid no mind to it and reminded Schuldich of his place with the usual bland indifference. Farfarello had been apathetic until Schuldich deliberately provoked him one time when he was free of his restraints. Schwarz nearly lost two of its members in that fight: Schuldich to a knife through his throat and Farfarello to a shattered, irreparable mind. But Nagi and Crawford had been there to break it up, Nagi hauling the two apart physically while Crawford's reprimanding shouts echoed off the walls. Afterwards, Schuldich had disappeared for a day and when he returned, he had his usual smirk in place, with only a touch of lingering violence in his eyes. He had taken Farfarello out in a tense silence, slipping out the door while Crawford was speaking on the phone with Takatori. Crawford was furious when he found out the two had disappeared, of course, but they returned later that night, appearing no different than usual. But Nagi had seen the news; he knew what they'd been up to. A sick way of apologizing in Nagi's opinion, but then, Schuldich wasn't the type of man who apologized at all. 

Because of all of this, Nagi had come to recognize when Schuldich had something up his sleeve and, consequently, when that something was not going as planned. So when he raised his eyes from the laptop in his lap to the figure who had been radiating irritation on the sofa for the last four hours, he was relatively certain that this was a case of the latter situation. 

Normally, Nagi would leave well enough alone. He wasn't stupid and he had seen what Schuldich could do when in a foul mood, without the slightest bit of provocation. But a persistent curiosity had been building in him ever since Omi had fully explained how Yohji Kudou had come to know of their relationship. He was especially interested in what Schuldich had been doing to that particular member of Weiss before Omi interrupted. Schuldich was known for his games and that bit of information, combined with his odd behavior now, brought Nagi to the only conclusion he could think of: Schuldich was involved in something with Kudou, but whatever plans he had had were not working as he thought they should. 

Of course, Nagi made sure that all of these contemplations took place behind his sturdy mental shield. The last thing he would need was Schuldich overhearing him and using that as an excuse to vent his frustrations. But despite efforts to ignore that curious, nagging voice in the back of his head, Nagi could no longer sit still with Schuldich's silent but increasingly stormy presence in the room and not know what was going on. 

"What's wrong?" he finally said, the words almost strained as they attempted to breech the tense silence. Schuldich's reply was something nasty in German. Nagi didn't know that much German, so he wasn't quite sure what the implications were and what Schuldich was suggesting he go do, but he recognized the tone; he struggled on. "You've been sulking on that couch for four hours, Schuldich."

"Keep pushing and I'll let Crawford in on your little affair with the kitten," Schuldich snarled, looking away from the wall he'd been glaring at for the first time since Nagi had found him here. The remark struck Nagi like a physical blow, a painful reminder that the secret of his relationship with Omi rested in treacherous hands. But the attack to something that close to him didn't frighten him off, as Schuldich had intended; instead, it sparked Nagi's wrath. Normally a quiet boy who seemed apathetic and cold to the world, Nagi had a temper that could rival Schuldich's viciousness when properly provoked. His eyes went flat and cold as Schuldich turned away, obviously dismissing him. 

"You asshole," he spat and Schuldich's eyes were wide when he looked again at Nagi. He apparently didn't think the frail-seeming telekinetic could get angry. "Every time something doesn't go your way, you throw a fit and then make everyone else's life miserable, too. I know where my loyalties lie, you don't have to fucking remind me." Schuldich's expression had quickly closed down into fury, his eyes narrowed as he rose from the couch. 

"You little shit--" But Nagi had reacted as soon as he moved, throwing the blunt force of his power against Schuldich and slamming him into the wall. 

"And what gives you the right to act so superior?" Nagi continued, setting aside his laptop and standing as well. "You're involved with Weiss, too!" He kept Schuldich pinned, not trusting that he would be able to act quickly enough if the man moved with his inhuman speed. But that didn't stop Schuldich from adding his own thoughts. 

~But I'm not stupid enough to go and fall in love with one of them,~ he sneered. And that was all it took for Nagi to snap. /Damn you, Schuldich!/ Infuriated and frustrated, Nagi threw another invisible blast against Schuldich, but felt at the same time a presence clawing at the shield in his mind: Schuldich's retaliation. 

Thunk!

Both assassins froze, startled out of their deadly struggle by the knife that hit the wall just centimeters from Schuldich's head. Nagi only had a half-second to register its presence, and Schuldich's blank expression of surprise, when he felt something cool and dangerously sharp touch the skin of his neck, just under his Adam's apple. Nagi's body locked up, terrified to even breathe as he flickered his eyes up to see the wielder of the dagger at his throat. Farfarello's one golden eye was trained on Schuldich and he held another knife ready to be thrown in his other hand. 

"Let him go," came the low command. For a second, Nagi wasn't sure who he was talking to, until he realized Farfarello meant both of them. Schuldich was still stuck to the wall, though no longer suffocating, and he could sense Schuldich's mental talons just at the edge of his mental barrier, ready to rend and tear at a moment's notice. Neither was willing to back down and give the other the opening they needed, but Farfarello was serious. 

"Do it." Nagi felt the blade prick the skin just slightly as he was finally forced to release the breath he held. His eyes were locked on Schuldich, but Schuldich was watching Farfarello, seeming torn between an expression of shock and one of thundering fury. Finally, after another tense moment, Schuldich withdrew from Nagi's mind and Nagi released him from his telekinetic hold. Farfarello nodded once, removing the dagger from Nagi's throat and making the other knife disappear with a flick of his wrist. He approached Schuldich calmly, unconcerned by the dark look he was receiving as he reached out to retrieve the knife imbedded in the wall. 

"Killing him won't solve anything," Farfarello pointed out, still eerily calm. He turned his golden eye on Schuldich. "In case you've forgotten _our_ disagreement." It was clear in Schuldich's eyes that he hadn't. Picking fights didn't seem to have much luck lately. He scowled and stalked toward the door, brushing past Nagi on the way. Despite the shields that barely remained intact after Schuldich's attack, a stray thought intruded on Schuldich's mind. 

/only trying to help.../

He paused at the front door, hand on the knob, feeling even more sour for the unusual guilt nibbling at his mind. Damn Nagi for having to care about him...and damn Yohji for being so fucking hung up on Hidaka. 

"You know, Schuldich," Nagi spoke up hesitantly behind him. Schuldich could sense him searching for the right words and waited, not turning around. "If...if you weren't such an arrogant jerk all the time, you'd find it wasn't so hard to get what you wanted." 

For a moment, there was only silence before a soft chuckle escaped Schuldich. Leave it to Nagi to forgo politeness and tact and get straight to the point. He digested the advice for a minute then shook his head. Half-turning back to his comrades, Schuldich slid his customary smirk into place. 

"Ja," he said and stepped out into the sun. 

* * *

Yohji would never be able to function properly in the morning; it was a tried and true law of Kudou physics. Granted, it was nearing noon, so it was technically becoming late morning, but he preferred to be in bed at this hour. He especially did not like being stuck with the morning shift the day after he makes the worst mistake in his life. And waking up to hear Ken knocking on Aya's door on the floor above him had definitely not been uplifting. There was no telling what the two of them were discussing up there, but they'd been at it for a couple of hours now and it unnerved Yohji. What was further irksome was that this talk had probably been inspired by last night's proceedings. No doubt Ken, filled with worry and confusion about Yohji knowing his feelings for Aya, had felt he had no other choice but to approach Abyssinian on the subject before anyone else found out and accidentally revealed the truth. 

A small, bitter part of Yohji wished that Aya would reject Ken and that maybe he could have another chance. But the better part of him, the part that was grateful for Ken's friendship and worried for his well being, wondered if maybe Ken would find the feelings were reciprocated after all. The last thing Yohji wanted was a miserable friend and an even icier leader. 

Of course, that still left Yohji with a pile of problems to sort through, so in a way, he was grateful for having the morning shift to himself. He glanced at the clock and did some quick math, figuring he had about an hour or more before Omi dragged himself out of bed to come down and help. The kid was up so late some nights, it was a wonder he ever made it to work. Yohji contemplated a cigarette, knowing Omi would probably smell the smoke as soon as he came downstairs, then decided to have one anyway. If he opened the door up afterward, maybe it would cut down most of the scent and Omi wouldn't lecture him again about smoking in the shop. He tapped out a thin, white stick and reached for his lighter. 

Time to sort out the basics: Yohji liked Ken. Yohji liked Ken in more than a platonic, brotherly way, possibly more than just a "Damn you're sexy, let's fuck" way. 

Ken was a man. Which meant Yohji was breaking his own personal code by liking a man, but that was okay because Ken didn't mind being liked by a man. Ken, in fact, also liked a man. The problem was, it wasn't Yohji. 

So Yohji's first real feelings for a man were unrequited, and since _that_ was the case, he should just brush it off--

A pair of blue eyes flashed mockingly in his head and Yohji nearly crushed his cigarette in a convulsive fist. He took a short drag, letting the smoke out and trying not to growl in frustration. 

That damn German. Whenever Yohji least expected it, he would turn up. He was a thorn in Yohji's side and the central knot in this whole mess. Without him, Yohji stood a chance of calling this mess with Ken a passing fling and easily returning to the world of women he knew so well. But Schuldich tore that plan to pieces every time he showed up and lured Yohji's desire to the surface. It was so damn irritating! And what was more frustrating was how Yohji's body refused to listen to him when he tried to rationalize why he could not--should not!--feel anything for this man! Even if it was almost flattering to be chased after so diligently...

/No! Absolutely not!/ Yohji squashed that line of thought firmly under his mental heel. Being chased like that wasn't flattering, it was revolting! Yohji had never hounded a woman in that manner, and he never would. It was ridiculous! And that comment about being easy... Yohji was simmering now in remembrance. 

The bell on the shop's door jangled and Yohji turned automatically to face the new customer with a distracted, "Irasshaimase."

"Guten Morgen!" Schuldich responded brightly, raising a hand in greeting. He grinned broadly at Yohji's dumbstruck expression.

For once in his life, the man was not wearing that green peacoat Yohji always saw him in; in fact, his outfit had changed completely. The plain white polo shirt and black slacks gave Schuldich an almost younger appearance. He still wore that ridiculous yellow bandana--why anyone with hair as outrageously colored as Schuldich's would wear a bandana like that was beyond Yohji's comprehension. It was as bad as Aya and that damned sweater he insisted on wearing all the time. Yohji was certain he would go blind in another year from the sheer contrast of camellia red and blatant orange. An idle thought crossed Yohji's mind: what Schuldich might look like without the bandana, with his hair hanging loose and untamed. He kicked himself immediately for letting that slip when Schuldich leered at him suggestively, picking up on the thought. 

"What are you doing here, Schwarz?" Yohji growled, intentionally not using Schuldich's name. 

"Would you believe me if I said I was in the neighborhood and decided to drop by?" Yohji's glare obviously said enough and Schuldich chuckled. "Didn't think so. Your cigarette's about done, by the way." Yohji glanced down and saw that it had, indeed, burned almost all the way down to the filter. With a muttered curse, he crushed the remainder in the ashtray, irritated that he had let it burn while he was lost in his thoughts. His gaze flickered back to Schuldich when the man left the doorway and moved towards the counter Yohji sat at, making the florist uncomfortably aware that his watch--with his wire--was upstairs. "Always so skittish. You should really learn to relax." 

"You should learn to stay out of other people's heads," Yohji snapped. 

"It's not my fault if you're projecting. I don't always have to go into your mind to hear what you're thinking," Schuldich remarked off-hand. "You're better than the others, though." Yohji just stared at him. 

Something wasn't right, beyond the simple wrongness of having your enemy in your shop and headquarters. The man before him, standing with his hands in his pockets and surveying the shop casually, did not seem like the normal Schuldich Yohji was constantly faced with. He seemed...subdued almost, less cocky and without that irritating smugness that usually was present. A flicker of something crossed Schuldich's expression just then, but it was so quickly suppressed, Yohji wondered if he had seen anything at all. 

Schuldich was probably listening to his thoughts again. Grumpily, Yohji wondered if there was some way he could block Schuldich's nosy telepathy rather like slamming down the Koneko's shutters on his groping fingers. There. That was a definite twitch; he _was_ listening. Yohji filed that idea away for further contemplation before returning to the problem at hand: his enemy/stalker had once again appeared to torment him, only now he seemed to be trying to confuse Yohji instead of seduce him. The obvious solution then was...what? Yohji sighed. 

"So this is what you do every day?" Schuldich spoke up, breaking the silence. He was still looking around the shop, at the rainbow of colorful blooms that sprouted from every direction. "How boring." He stepped closer to a row of buckets, his fingers caressing the petals of a lily, but his eyes flickering to Yohji. "Can't say I mind the scenary, though." A hint of a sensuous smile curved one corner of his lips. 

No fucking way. Schuldich was _flirting_ with him. The world had gone insane while Yohji wasn't looking...or maybe someone at the club last night had slipped some time-release drug into his drink that was only kicking in now and this was some weird hallucination. Yohji pulled off his sunglasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

"What are you doing here?" he finally said. "I thought I made myself clear last night." 

"Just because I was right doesn't mean you should take it the wrong way. With the way things are going upstairs, you might want to consider finding someone new to occupy your thoughts." Schuldich lips formed a familiar leer. "Or your bed." 

Yohji just stared at him. 'The way things were going upstairs'? He looked up. With Ken and Aya? Wait...meaning Ken and Aya were...? There was a heartbeat of silence in Yohji's mind and then, surprisingly, he accepted it. If Ken had confessed and Aya reciprocated the feelings then fine, let the two of them be happy together. God only knew what Ken saw in their ice princess of a leader, but whatever it was, he thought it was worth being with. Yohji would just live the life he always had: wine and dine the ladies but never settle down, and wake up in a lonely bed with haunting memories of Asuka's bloody body as his only comfort. 

"It doesn't have to be that way," Schuldich murmured suddenly, making Yohji aware once again that he could never have a private thought with the telepath around. Before he could worry about the real offer behind Schuldich's words, though, the back door of the shop--the one leading into the rest of the house--opened and Omi, laden with a large potted plant, backed into the room. 

"Yohji-kun, is that cigarette smoke I smell? How many times do I have to tell you not to smoke in the shop? It's bad for the plants and it drives customers away. If you have to smoke that badly, at least go outside and--" He turned, ready with a stern expression as he peered over the leafy plant he carried, and stopped in mid-sentence. Silence descended in the Koneko; Yohji was briefly grateful that it hadn't been another of his teammates. 

"Um...sorry," he said lamely. The pot dropped from Omi's limp fingers, narrowly missing his feet, as he continued to stare at the man leaning against the counter. Schuldich smiled brightly--an eerie sight, really--and _waved_. The last time Omi had come across the two, Schuldich had Yohji pinned to a wall and brought ominous news from Nagi. What could he possibly want now? Yohji cleared his throat loudly, but Omi's eyes were still riveted on their enemy. 

"Listen, Omi, can you take care of some orders in the back?" he asked and immediately Omi turned to give him an incredulous look. "Just..." _Trust me_, Yohji's eyes pleaded. "...please." The other boy opened his mouth, watched Yohji a moment more, glanced at Schuldich--who was still maintaining an air of obviously fake innocence--looked back at his teammate, and then closed his mouth. With a sigh, he turned and went back out of the shop, leaving the plant where it sat. Yohji let out the breath he had been holding and congratulated himself silently: crisis averted. He glanced at Schuldich, who was watching him again, and saw the angelic act was gone, replaced by the intense desire and determination apparent in all of their encounters. Yohji was dismayed to feel an answering heat welling up within him. 

"You're never going to leave me alone, are you?" he asked suddenly, as the thought hit him. "Not until I've slept with you."

"Would it really be so bad?" Schuldich returned, casually reaching out to run his fingers up Yohji's arm. His skin tingling where Schuldich touched, Yohji fought down a shiver as fingers traced over his tattoo, making him painfully aware of its presence. 

/_sin_/

Without waiting for an answer to his question, Schuldich eliminated the distance between them and brought their mouths together. Unlike their other kisses, he did not attempt to invade and force Yohji into submitting; he simply coaxed and caressed with lips and teeth and tongue, until Yohji's surprise began to melt and he returned the kiss. Yohji was shocked at how good it felt, how natural. Even if his mind was shouting otherwise, other parts of him certainly weren't. A hunger crept into the kiss, eating away at his control and making him press a stirring erection into the counter as he reached for more of Schuldich. With his hand gripping Yohji's forearm like a vise, Schuldich was all but attempting to drag him up and over the counter, and Yohji was of half a mind to agree to it--

_hot breath at his throat, teeth nipping at his collarbone, a lean body pressing up against every part of him, pinning him to the cold metal of the car beneath him while a thigh adjusted just enough to press right **there**_

--when the back door opened again. 

The memory of the previous night fled before the rushed instinct to pull away. Schuldich, on the other hand, didn't release the grip he had on Yohji's arm and between that and the finger hooked through his belt loop--when had that gotten there?--Yohji was quite firmly trapped. After only a second or two more--it felt like an eternity to Yohji--Schuldich released him, the hand at Yohji's waist lingering a moment longer than was necessary. He straightened with a smile fit for the Cheshire cat, but Yohji needed another few seconds to recover fully. When he did, he remembered the door opening and turned quickly, heart hammering in his chest. 

It was only Omi again, but the look of outright shock left Yohji fumbling for an explanation. He knew what it must look like--Omi being chased out so that Yohji can make out with Schuldich without anyone being the wiser--but that hadn't been the intention at all. Schuldich shifted and recaptured Yohji's attention, and the heat in those blue eyes washed over Yohji like a physical caress.

"Later, gorgeous." Something in Schuldich's tone hinted his words contained a promise instead of just a casual goodbye; Yohji wondered if he would have trouble later that evening. Schuldich just smiled broadly and headed for the door, slipping on a pair of sunglasses before stepping out into the sun. 

Yohji's gaze was riveted to the door, his body torn between the desire to run after Schuldich, drag him to the nearest secluded space, and disgust at actually wanting to continue what they'd been doing before they were interrupted. His nerves were still vibrating with the lust Schuldich had awaken and his erection had not diminished with the other man's departure. Meanwhile, he did not have to look to know that Omi continued to stand in the doorway, watching him with a gaze both curious and confused, and patiently waiting for an explanation. But luck was not on Yohji's side that day for just then, Ken appeared behind Omi, peering over his shoulder, and Aya, scowling at the hold-up, attempted to see around both of his teammates. 

"What's going on?" Ken asked and Yohji's head whipped around, eyes wide. Omi, he had expected, but not the other two! What was more, there was a barely noticeable change in the latter pair's body language. Aya no longer leaned away from everyone, discouraging even accidental physical contact, and Ken, as he shifted to see around Omi's head, seemed to be invading Aya's personal space consciously, as if he knew it was acceptable for him to do so and was taking advantage of that fact. It was the subtle, often unconscious behavior exhibited by a new couple; Yohji had seen it before in many of the bars he visited. 

So Schuldich had been right again--no surprise there--but Yohji was in no mood to deal with all of this while still uncomfortably aware that his arousal was not fading. However, the arrival of his three co-workers did mean one thing: _he _could leave, if only for a short time. He moved around the counter and strode towards the doorway where his friends were cluttered. 

"Lunch break," he said shortly, grateful when the trio cleared the way without argument. Ken seemed puzzled but Aya barely acknowledged him, instead walking over to fetch his own apron. Omi's gaze was searching, though, and burned a hole in his back as he fled. Yohji knew he would have to figure out a way to explain himself, but as long as he had time to himself, he could figure something out. 


	5. Part 4

"It's No Good"

by Beth Gulla

/.../ represents thoughts

~...~ represents telepathy

**4**

Nearly an hour later, Yohji descended the steps from the upper apartment levels of the Koneko and ran a hand through his now-damp hair. When a cold shower had not produced the desired results, he had resorted to the more common method of getting rid of a persistent erection before rinsing off in warmer water and spending a few moments at his window, thinking. Unbidden images of Schuldich had flashed in his mind as he coaxed himself to climax, trying to focus on _anything_ but the arrogant redhead and failing miserably. 

With a sigh, Yohji hesitated outside the door that led into the shop. He would need to get Omi alone if he wanted to explain what had happened earlier; maybe he could use the greenhouse for an excuse. He still had no idea what he would say, but the boy deserved to hear something, even if it was just Yohji's confused apologies. With that thought fixed in his mind, Yohji turned the knob and entered the shop. 

His chance to explain, however, was once again forced to wait. It was Omi's turn for deliveries so he was out on his scooter for most of the afternoon. Yohji participated in his usual duties in the shop, but his mind was elsewhere, which is why he didn't noticed Ken's odd behavior until they were about to close. 

He happened to look up at just the right moment to catch a worried look Ken cast his way and yet as soon as their eyes met, Ken looked away almost guiltily. Yohji was puzzled by this and tried to recall the past few hours; he was startled to realize Ken had been acting like this since Yohji had returned to the shop. Watching him, Yohji caught another furtive glance sent his way, quickly abandoned when Ken realized he was being observed. Yohji, however, immediately put aside his broom and headed out into the sunshine where Ken was sweeping. 

"All right, what is it? You've been giving me looks all afternoon like I just caught you cheating on me." 

And there it was. Ken's eyes widened, the worry flooded brown irises, and Yohji realized the problem. Just last night he had made it clear he wanted Ken and now, the very next morning, Ken and Aya were an item and though they hadn't announced it, the slight changes in their behavior made it obvious. Any other man would have been jealous or angry and might have stormed off when presented with the sight of the new couple. To Ken, Yohji's hasty departure this morning may have seemed to be just that because he didn't know the real reason. Yohji, however, was not 'any other man'. 'Any other man' did not have a horny rival assassin breathing down his neck every other hour and making it difficult to be troubled by anything else. But Ken--not knowing about Schuldich--had worked himself into a knot of worry with his assumptions that Yohji was mad. 

"Look," Yohji began, putting a hand on Ken's shoulder, "last night...was a mess. I wasn't myself and it's probably best if we just forget what happened. You love Aya, right?" 

"Yeah," Ken replied cautiously.

"And you two are going to give it a try, correct?"

"Um, well yeah." A faint blush tinted Ken's cheeks, causing Yohji to wonder if his friend's confession had been purely platonic. 

"Then great, good for both of you. I mean that, honest," he added, when Ken gave him a dubious look. "You just have to spill all the details on the sex, that's all I ask."

"Y-yohji!" Ken sputtered, exactly as Yohji knew he would. Chuckling, he went back into the store to finish his sweeping, sparing a lazy smile for Aya, who looked up from counting the till curiously. A few minutes later, Yohji was stretching up to catch the handle of the Koneko's shutters when he heard Ken and Aya greeting Omi in the hallway behind him. 

/Ah, the time for explaining has finally arrived,/ he thought wryly, pulling the gate down. He was snapping the lock into place when someone rapped sharply on the metal, making him pause. He was suddenly hit with the frightening thought that it was Schuldich, dropping by to pick up where they had left off. He was still trying to decide whether to open it or not when the knock came again. With a sigh, he pulled the shutters up just enough to see the legs of the person; his cigarette fell from lips slack with surprise and he shoved the shutter open. 

"Manx!" 

"Good evening, Yohji," she said with a smile as he let her in. "Is everyone here?"

"Yes, but we weren't expecting a mission." Yohji's brows furrowed in confusion and just a touch of suspicion. "What's going on?"

"I'll explain once everyone is together," she replied neutrally, proceeding past him through the shop. 

Ken, who was lounging on the mission room couch, watching tv, responded much like Yohji: shock at first, then curiosity. Manx, however, remained mysteriously silent until Aya and Omi had been found. Then she asked them all to get comfortable before she would begin.

"What's this all about, Manx?" Ken asked as soon as he'd taken a seat beside Aya. 

"It's a mission."

"I thought Birman was in charge of our missions now," Omi spoke up from his perch on the couch's armrest. 

"She is," Manx responded calmly, "but she doesn't know about this one."

"What do you mean?" Aya demanded. "Get to the point." 

"I've been helping Birman with the search for your sister, but on the side, I've done a little information gathering of my own. We have several possible locations for Schrient's base but Kritiker has insisted we follow the proper procedures and send in a few scouts before we actually allow a team to move in. I believe Schrient will catch on and abandon the place before we have a chance to retrieve Aya-chan. Kritiker, however, has chosen to follow the rules, which is why I'm here. I have with me a list of the most likely locations for Schrient's base, including maps and detailed security information. You can opt to check them out yourselves or leave them for Kritiker to examine; I simply thought you deserved the choice." 

Looks were passed around, raised eyebrows and half-hearted shrugs exchanged. In the end, the three looked to Aya to make the decision, not because he was the leader but because this was _his _sister they would be trying to rescue. Yohji caught the subtle glance Ken shot Aya, more private than the silent questions that gone around the group as a whole. Another long moment of silence passed before anyone spoke. 

"We'll do it," Aya said. 

"Good." Manx pulled a small envelope out of her purse and pulled out the necessary papers. She let them split up and pass out the maps and guard details. "This is what we've observed so far. You should know before you leave, though, that there is a good chance you won't find anything. These are only possibilities, not actual bases of operation." Yohji nodded, peering over Omi's shoulder at a map. They weren't doing this for money or retribution. A glance at Aya was enough reason; his expression was tense and he held another map in a white-knuckled grip. 

"One last thing," Manx continued, catching their attention again, "understand that this is _not _a Kritiker operation. I was never here, you never saw this information. Without authorization, what you're about to do is technically illegal and no one will be sent in to back you up if something goes wrong." Yohji suspected Manx herself would be in a lot of trouble were word of tonight ever to reach the powers that be of Kritiker. The woman spared a small smile for the team. "Good luck." 

* * *

"I don't like this," Yohji muttered several hours later, grinding out his cigarette under one heel. 

"What's there not to like?" Ken replied sarcastically, peering behind a stack of crates. He made a negative sign to Omi up in the rafters. "It's suspiciously silent and empty, just like the other three." He turned away with a frown, looking for Aya. Yohji glanced across the warehouse to the shadows on the other side. 

/I understand Manx's reasoning but this wild goose chase has only made Aya more frantic over his missing sister than before,/ he thought with a sigh. 

~Maybe he should have Hidaka help him relax,~ a smirking voice pointed out in his head. 

/Shit./

"Abyssinian! Siberian!" He was already drawing a strand of wire free from his watch when he gave the warning. "We've got company." Ken unsheathed his claws, now scanning their surroundings warily and out of the corner of his eye, Yohji saw Aya free his katana of its sheath. 

~You know, after this morning, I thought you'd be happy to see me,~ Schuldich continued casually while Yohji raked the shadowed warehouse corners for the members of Schwarz. His eyes narrowed at the tone of Schuldich's voice, because it was the same self-assured air he'd carried the previous evening, when he had been so certain of triumphing over Yohji. 

/I'm sure this comes as a surprise, but you were wrong,/ he thought back coolly. He intended to say more but a sudden screech drew his attention to Aya, who expertly blocked Farfarello's pounce from the top of a large transport box. Their blades met with a harsh clang and shriek of metal sliding on metal, while Ken sprang towards the pair. Yohji took a step to follow but was stopped by an image suddenly flashing his mind. 

It was Schuldich, stretched out on a plain bed, obviously naked save for the sheet that was drawn up to his waist. One hand slid down his chest teasingly slow and then beneath the scant covering, where it began to work in rhythmic beats, while Schuldich's eyes closed and his lips parted--

"You sick fuck!" Yohji tore his mind free with laughter in his ears and tried to erase the image that seemed burned into his retinas. Schuldich's mounting pleasure in the fantasy seemed to have seeped into real life, spreading warmth straight down to his groin and irritating Yohji more. "Stop skulking in the shadows and show yourself!" 

~If you insist...~

A flash of color caught Yohji's eyes and he saw Schuldich standing a few feet away, hip cocked to one side, the customary smirk in place. He knew running after his enemy would be stupid; it would single him out and possibly land him in a well-placed trap. Nevertheless, when Schuldich blew a kiss and took off through a doorway, Yohji gave chase. Schuldich obviously wanted his attention and now he had it, but he wouldn't be pleased with the results if Yohji had any say in the matter.

They raced this way for a few minutes, Schuldich always frustratingly out of reach, and as he was led around another corner and into a lone hallway, Yohji realized his mistake. He came to an abrupt stop and the figure he had been chasing flickered out of existence. 

/A fucking mirage./

~Oh the things the mind can create.~ 

"All right, you've lured me away from my team," Yohji said out loud. "What do you want?"

~Isn't it obvious? _You_.~ The last word was practically a caress that ignited his nerves, making his skin tingle. Yohji attempted to block out the feeling as he glanced behind him at the equally empty hallway. 

/I do _not _need this right now.../

~Why not? It's hardly a _real _mission and believe me, what you're looking for isn't here.~

"How do you know that?"

~Because I chose this location,~ Schuldich informed him smugly. ~I had Nagi hack into Kritiker's computer system and enter this place as a possible location for Schrient's base. After that, it was only a matter of a simple suggestion in the right ear before I had things set up the way I wanted them.~ Yohji's mind was reeling from the complexity of Schuldich's plan. Hacking computers, manipulating Manx, organizing all of Schwarz--

"Nagi agreed because it gave him a chance to see his precious kitten." The sudden switch to oral communication made Yohji whirl and look for the source. There was still no sign of his enemy but a little ways down the hall there appeared to be an open doorway. He had missed it when he rushed by only moments earlier. Yohji moved towards the opening as Schuldich continued. "Farfarello agreed because it meant he could fight. I imagine the newlyweds will keep him suitably entertained without too much bloodshed. As for Crawford, I could care less about his opinion." 

Yohji came to a stop in the doorway, knowing what he would find but still wary. The room he had come to seemed to be an office, but it was bare of everything except a desk, positioned against the wall off to the left. The wall perpendicular to the desk was actually a window that allowed enough light in to silhouette a figure leaning casually against the desk. Even with the dim lighting, it was impossible to mistake that wild frock of orange hair. 

"I thought your leader was all-knowing?" Yohji asked, approaching the desk warily. 

"Doesn't matter. I stated a long time ago that Weiß was mine." Schuldich's eyes gleamed in the low light. "_You _are mine." He slid off the desk and crossed the distance between them in one fluid movement. Yohji had barely blinked and suddenly Schuldich was practically on top of him, toying with the zipper of his coat with obvious plans swirling in his eyes. 

"I can't--"

"There's no mission, your friends are busy, you're not even swooning over Hidaka anymore." Schuldich's smirk broadened. "You're out of excuses, Kudou." 

Yohji knew that. He was aware that he had lost the battle with himself when he said "can't" instead of "won't". Something had happened in the shop that morning and despite Schuldich's cocky attitude, they both knew that kiss had been something more than swapped saliva. But this was no ordinary affair and his brain was still having trouble wrapping around the concept of sex with Schuldich. 

"It's really quite easy," Schuldich murmured silkily. His lips brushed against Yohji's, his hand already dragging down the zipper of the coat. "Let me show you..."

He opened Yohji's mouth with the same slow, easy kiss he had used that morning in the shop: tongue coaxing and caressing his lust into the forefront of his mind. Hands slid under his coat to settle on his hips, using that as steering to pivot and back Yohji up until they had reached the desk. Yohji--who was trying not to think, because if he did, he knew he would realize how insane this was--used the advantage of having something behind him to push up against Schuldich, demanding more from their tangled war of lips, tongue and the occasional nip of teeth; he was no longer content to just melt complacently in Schuldich's arms. Their mouths parted once, twice; breaths were quickening, pants filling the silence. Schuldich pinned Yohji to the desk with his hips and just rocked, lapping up the low moan that broke their kiss. He pushed aside Yohji's high collar and bent his head to lavish attention on that pale curve of skin presented to him. Another firm nudge of his hips, combined with a tongue dipping into the well of Yohji's collarbone, had the Weiß assassin gasping and grabbing for the edge of the desk as his legs liquefied. 

Schuldich lowered himself to his knees, hands gliding down Yohji's chest--bypassing the nipples for now--until they reached the tantalizing stretch of skin bared by his mid-drif work shirt. The delicate dip of pelvic bone, exposed by low-riding pants, was Schuldich's goal and he nipped the spot with a smug grin. Yohji's hips jerked forward with a yelp of, "Fuck!" but Schuldich pushed him back against the desk firmly. 

"I've wanted to do that for ages..." A quick brush of his tongue and a slight exhale of air had Yohji's thighs shaking again; his fingers were gripping the desk edge with white knuckles. 

"Fucking tease," he growled, attempting to glare down at Schuldich. The effect was lost when Schuldich trailed his fingernails across toned abs and darted his tongue out to taste Yohji's navel. Involuntarily, Yohji's eyes fluttered shut while the wood of the desk creaked under the pressure of his hands. He wasn't wearing his usual leather pants that clung to everything--practically _painted _on--and for that he was grateful. He was so hard he ached and Schuldich was only making it worse with these teasing brushes of his tongue and fingers. No woman had ever toyed with him so cruelly. 

"I'm not like the women you wined and dined, Kudou," came a throaty whisper in his ear as Schuldich abruptly straightened and pressed into him again. Yohji groaned when a very non-womanly, trapped erection pressed hard into his own. He arched away from the table, pushing into the contact with a hiss. Schuldich murmured appreciatively in response, touching his lips to the hinge of Yohji's jaw. Finally, the indomitable playboy from Weiß was writhing willingly beneath him and Schuldich was nearly drunk with the thought of victory so close. It was because of this that he didn't sense the presence coming down the hall until it was too late. 

"Having fun?" 

Startled by the voice that came from the doorway behind him, Schuldich--who had moved on to nibble lightly just below Yohji's ear for the delightful shivers it wrung from him--bit down too hard, eliciting an outraged exclamation. But Schuldich hardly took notice of the red mark he'd left, turning instead to stare at Farfarello. 

"You're supposed to be distracting Weiß!" he snapped. 

"Crawford's here," the albino replied calmly. "He scattered Weiß with a couple of bullets and sent me to find you." Schuldich reached out with his senses and almost immediately felt the blank spot that was his leader, inside the building though not anywhere near them. A long stream of colorful curses left his lips as he "knocked" on the doors of Crawford's mind--which were, as usual, closed to him--to let him know he was there. Brad didn't waste time with pleasantries. 

/Whatever you've been up to has all of Kritiker up in arms. Four teams will be breaking in in just a few minutes./

~I didn't know you cared,~ Schuldich sneered. 

/I came to ensure the safety of a necessary asset and to be sure you didn't get the other members of my team killed. Tell Nagi to bring down the building on your way out. I don't care if you kill the teams, just tear it down./ The small window in Crawford's mind he had allowed for them to communicate was slammed shut. 

~Asshole.~ But he knew Brad wasn't listening; instead, he broadened his "aim". ~Nagi. We're leaving.~ He caught a distracted acknowledgment just as incoming thoughts registered on his senses. 

Yohji had been waiting impatiently for some sort of explanation since Farfarello had arrived. The albino made him nervous and he was only slightly reassured that Schuldich might protect him since he had been about to fuck him only moments before. He was completely unprepared, therefore, when Schuldich shoved him to the floor, planting a foot roughly in the small of his back when he tried to get back up. The hair on the back of his neck rose when the click of a gun safety being taken off sounded above and behind his head. 

What the hell was going on?

But before he could ask, there was an explosion of movement from the doorway. 

"Balinese!"

"Yohji!" 

"So nice of you to join the party," Schuldich greeted silkily. 

Ken and Aya hesitated just inside the doorway, wary of the gun their enemy held pointed at their trapped friend. 

~to be continued…


	6. Part 5

8/18/04 – Updated "Author's Notes" and finished part 5…

Due to sexual situations (not just hints this time, kiddies ) part 5 is located on the "It's No Good" webpage! You can copy and paste this link: www.angelfirecom/anime/JadeHawke/splash.html (adding the period after "angelfire") or just follow the link for "homepage" in my user profile.

Thank you to everyone who's left such wonderful feedback! I'm sorry I've been a little slow getting the latest part up, but hopefully you'll enjoy it nonetheless.


	7. Part 6

12/1/01 – Updated "Author's Notes" again and new part...

Happy Holidays! Part 6 is finished but once again, because of sexual content (and 's rules), it's available only at the "It's No Good" website. You can copy and paste this link: www.angelfirecom/anime/JadeHawke/splash.html (adding the period after "angelfire") or just follow the link for "homepage" in my user profile.

Thanks again for the reviews and feedback! I really appreciate it.


	8. Part 7

1"It's No Good"

by Beth Gulla

/.../ represents thoughts

:...: now represents telepathy

**7**

It was a little after 8 when Crawford heard the key in the lock of the main door. He had already folded his newspaper and set it aside about 10 minutes before, and since then had sat and watched the door darkly. The rest of the mansion was quiet, the other inhabitants probably still sleeping; it was the problem child who hadnt returned the night before. The door opened and as usual, he regarded the German with cold disapproval; as usual, Schuldich just smirked back, as if he had known Brad would be there waiting for him.

"I'm surprised you care so little for your own life, the precog began coldly. "I gave you an order--" He was cut off by a memory so vulgar and vivid, it forced its way into Crawfords mind despite his shields.

_He was laid out on a bed in what was most likely a cheap hotel somewhere, currently having sex with an overly well-endowed woman who bounced on his lap, emitting various squeals and whimpers of what he assumed was delight. She had her head thrown back, sweat-slick hair clinging and hiding her face from view. He felt the pleasure surging through him as he thrust up into her welcoming heat and then she was bouncing faster, her cries rising in volume_--

Crawford shoved the image from his mind in disgust, glaring furiously at Schuldich who continued to smirk back. The precog needed a couple deep breaths before he felt calm enough to speak and by then, Schuldich had already turned away for the hallway leading to their personal rooms.

"You don't usually pick blondes," he commented and Schuldich paused.

It was a gamble but hopefully Schuldich didn't know that. Crawford was almost certain where the man had been all night but without any vision to back it up, it was just a suspicion. Schuldich was a talented telepath and could create memories that seemed real enough to most others, but to have enough detail to fool Crawford meant he would need some sort of real memory to base it off of, to give it that final touch. If hed fucked Kudou, he could have created this memory from that. However, there was still the possibility that Schuldich cared more for his own life than for his little games and, needing some sort of distraction, hed picked up this woman instead. Crawfords eyes narrowed when Schuldich turned around, because now he was downright leering.

"You were looking in the wrong place, Bradley. She was a natural brunette." The German blew him a kiss tauntingly and then sauntered out of the room. Crawford felt an unusual surge of anger after hed left, but the only visible change in his demeanor was his hands tightening into fists that trembled on his knees.

Arrogant asshole... If he ruined all their careful planning, he wouldn't be laughing for long. Crawford let out a slow breath, trying to regain his calm as he mulled over the vision from a few days ago. Like most visions, it had been hazy but the connection between Schuldichs potential visit to the flower shop and his eventual death was clear enough. What the telepath probably would have been surprised to find out was that his end would have been at the hands of the very man he considered his "toy". In fact, it was that part of the vision that disturbed Brad the most: that image of Balinese with Schuldich in an inescapable stranglehold with his wire, his face a wreck of emotions–anger, betrayal, despair.

What was it Schuldich would have done by fucking Kudou once more? What would have changed? Brad took his glasses off with an irritated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly. Schuldich wasn't the only one dying in that vision and the precog had gone through too much trouble to ensure not only his own survival, but that of his team as well.

He regarded the hallway Schuldich had disappeared down darkly. Without another vision to tell him what had really happened, the only way they would know if the future had changed, was when it came crashing down on their heads.

* * *

Nagi had just sat down at his desk and was in the middle of a stretch, mouth opened wide to release a yawn, when Schuldich suddenly appeared in his range of vision.

"_Schuldich!_ What the hell are you doing up so early? He scowled, his heart racing, but his teammate just stood beside him like a dark cloud. Thinking Schuldich was in the middle of another of his tantrums, Nagi turned away to face his computer. He prodded the mouse grumpily with a telekinetic finger to wake it up and wondered why the hell he had decided to pout in _his_ room, of all places.

:Crawford knows about my game with Balinese.:

Nagis mouth dropped open as all the irritation abruptly drained out of him, to be replaced by cold fear. He spun back to look up at Schuldich, but the telepath's gaze was blank, looking down at Nagis desk without really seeing it. The telekinetic struggled to recover his wits.

/H-how? A vision?/ he finally thought back.

:He wasn't just guessing. I dont know how much he knows.: Cold blue eyes focused on Nagi. :You'd better end it before he warns you too.:

'Warns'? Nagis eyes widened. /Wait, Schuldich...did you go to the flower shop after Crawford told you not to?/ It was a dumb question really, knowing Schuldich, and Nagi sighed when there was no reply; the answer was clear. /Crawford will be furious when he finds out./

:I already took care of it: the telepath replied, his gaze having drifted back to the desk again. His mouth twisted in a bitter mockery of a smile. :Not like it matters...: The room was silent so the dry bark of laughter in Nagi's mind felt even more harsh. He wondered suddenly what Crawford had said when he warned Schuldich to stay away. Usually, if the telepath went against their leaders orders, he came back gloating, full of himself and the fact that he continued to do whatever he wanted, no matter who told him otherwise. This version of Schuldich was a far cry from the norm but Nagi kept his worries tightly locked behind his shields, lest he provoke the mans unsettling mood.

Abruptly, the redhead turned and headed for the door, where he paused again.

:Contact your kitten and end it, Nagi. You wont like the alternative.: Leaving Nagi wondering what exactly his words meant, Schuldich walked out and shut the door behind him.

* * *

Yohji awoke abruptly, at first disoriented and tense, as if he'd been caught in a vivid dream that dispersed the moment his eyes opened. He lay still for a moment, listening to his heartbeat calm down, then attempted to sit up with a grunt. A variety of aches and pains happily announced their existence and he paused to take stock of the information assaulting his brain. He was unusually sore from just sex, even if it was with Schuldich, and he didn't recall them playing rough last night. As he reached for his cigarettes, his gaze fell on his arm and his eyes widened. There were bruises there but when he cast about his mind for a quick answer, he couldn't seem to find one. Surely not Schuldich...? Alarmed now, he examined them closer and found, due to the fading tenderness and color, they were more likely a few days old. This should have been reassuring, but he was still bothered by the fact that he couldn't remember something that should only have been 3 or 4 days earlier. He closed his eyes to focus.

There had been a fight...with Schrient? Vaguely, Yohji recalled struggling with a woman. He opened his eyes again, still frowning. So that explained the bruising and the other muscle aches were undoubtedly from Schuldichs visit. That, at least, was relatively clear in his mind, but why had he shown up so suddenly at Yohji's door?

The blonde swung his legs over the side of the bed and surveyed his room: it was a disaster. Hed been hoping to locate a pack of cigarettes since his usual stashCon the corner of the bedside table, within easy reachCseemed to have vanished. However, while he saw quite a few packs strewn about the room, they all appeared crumpled and empty. His foot brushed against something damp and he looked down in surprise to see his jeans, crumpled in a heap and thoroughly wet. A shirt lay nearby, also soaked, and a glance out his window showed it had indeed rained the night before.

Before "dying" and being inducted into this life as an assassin, Yohji had been a detective and some skills never faded with time.

_Something _was missing from this picture. Yohji knew those cigarette packs weren't leftovers from previous weeks because he kept his apartment relatively clean, mostly to keep Omi from chastising him whenever he came by. That meant they had accumulated recently, which meant a startling amount of smoking, even for his standards. The clothes suggested he had been out in the rain the night before without an umbrella; he faintly recalled the chill and a sense of wandering without aim. But why? Probably the most worrying realization was that it was nearly mid-day and no one had come to kick him out of bed. Even if he didn't have work, even if they knew he had been out late at the clubs, someone always came by. Usually it was Omi, with breakfast and aspirin if it was the latter scenario.

His frown deepening, Yohji stood and stretched, trying to work away a little of the stiffness in his muscles. A glance in the mirror made him pause. Stark naked as he was, it was impossible to miss the multiple discolorations staining his skin, the unmistakable signs of punches or kicks not blocked. He stepped closer to the mirror to examine a bite mark on his shoulder--almost certainly a "gift" from Schuldich--and suddenly went cold at the sight of the bruises circling his neck. _Those_ didn't come from an ordinary struggle.

Someone had tried to kill him, strangle him with their bare hands. How the hell could he forget that? The answer came so easily, it was a wonder he hasn't seen it before. Even in his gloomiest state, when he turned to alcohol in an attempt to find peace, Yohji had never been able to wipe out the horrors of being an assassin. There was only one explanation for waking up with holes in his memories and that was because he'd gone to sleep with a fucking telepath.

Even though outrage was welling up inside him, a flash of fear followed quickly on its heels. If Schuldich had been messing around inside his head, what else had he changed? Yohji's mind flew through numerous worst-case scenarios, the most notable being a situation where he'd been programmed to kill some or all of his team members and then forced to forget. That would explain the bruises since his team would have certainly fought back. The telepath was known for having a sick sense of humor.

But he'd told Yohji on numerous occasions this affair had nothing to do with their teams. Why would he suddenly change? Had he been given orders to use his closeness?

"Dammit!" There were too many possibilities and no answer that seemed to stand out. The only thing he could be certain of was that Schuldich had done something and it was related to the bruises. There was no other reason why his mind would go mysteriously blank when he tried to recall their cause.

His window was half-open, allowing the sound of a crash to drift in. He moved to the glass unabashedly and saw Ken helping Omi clean up the remains of a potted plant. From Yohji's viewpoint, Omi appeared a little red and he could vaguely hear Ken say something before laughing. Omi must've been the culprit then and Ken was teasing him mercilessly. Yohji left the window and returned to the center of his chaotic room.

Seeing his teammates like that was somewhat reassuring. Not only were two of them whole and healthy, but they wouldn't be so relaxed if Yohji had done something treacherous recently. He still couldn't rule out the possibility it had yet to happen but for some reason, the more he considered it, the less likely it seemed. Was that Schuldich's influence? He ran a hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh–or tried to, at least. His fingers got stuck in knots that–like the state of his room–suggested he hadn't been taking very good care of himself recently.

If he tried to get clues from his teammates, he would have to explain why his memory was suddenly blank. It seemed his only choice was to wait and see if anything surfaced. But for now...

"Shower," he declared to the empty room. Solve the simple problems first, then move on to the big ones. Snatching a towel from where it hung on an open dresser drawer, he wrapped it around his hips and headed for the bathroom.

By the time Yohji made his way downstairs to the shop, he had managed to find clean, only slightly wrinkled clothes as well as his sunglasses, but no cigarettes. His stomach had voiced complaints as he cleaned up the trash in his room, leading Yohji to wonder when his last meal had been. He was trying to think of the best way to convince someone else to find him food as he entered the shop. Ken and Omi were alone in the shop but both looked up in surprise when he walked in.

"Yohji, what're you–" Ken was cut off by a not-so-subtle hit from Omi. Yohji fought back a frown as Ken's reaction revealed whatever had happened must have been important if they weren't expecting to see him.

"Good morning, Yohji-kun!" Omi greeted, with just a little too much cheer. Ken rubbed his arm where hed been hit, his expression a mix of grumpiness and guilt. Yohji decided to play along.

"Morning," he replied with a stretch and a yawn, the very appearance of his usual self. "Have you two eaten already? Im starved."

"Well, yeah--"

"But Ken-kun, you were just saying you were still hungry, right?" Omi interrupted. "Why don't you go pick up something for you and Yohji-kun?" Yohji had come to believe no one could master the pleading stare like Omi had, so it was no surprise when Ken pulled off his apron with a sigh of defeat.

"Of course. Is Chinese okay, Yohji?"

"Yeah, sure, the usual is fine. Thanks, Ken." Ken obviously wasn't expecting Yohji to smile but he responded with a grin of his own before he left. Apparently, _he _was ready to accept Yohji's return to normalcy but that still didn't explain what had happened and how his behavior had been. Omi went back to watering the display flowers, saying nothing about Yohji's change of behavior, so the lanky blonde took over Ken's position working on the orders for the day. Although they worked in comfortable silence, Yohji caught the glances Omi stole and knew he wasn't completely in the clear.

After pretending for so long to be a florist, flower arranging came rather naturally and Yohji was grateful for the task that kept his hands busy and mostly distracted him from wanting a cigarette. At the same time, his mind was free to piece together what he knew so far.

Usually, Omi was the only one who took pity on him when he was in a bad mood or hungover, but apparently the entire team had been stepping lightly around him. Did they expect him to blow up and take their heads off over some disagreement? That had never stopped Aya's comments before and on days like that, if Ken also got riled up, it usually led to a fistfight that was better therapy than trying to talk it out. But their behavior didn't quite fit right with handling someone who's temper was close to breaking. Instead, Omi had quickly distracted Ken from questions that would have shown their concern...but their concern for what?

As frustrating as it was to go around in circles without answers, Yohji was enjoying the monotony of piecing together bouquets. However, when the bell on the door finally rang, he looked up hopefully to see if it was Ken with his food. He was surprised to see it was Nagi and a quick glance at Omi showed he wasn't the only one. A sinking feeling developed in Yohji's stomach that had nothing to do with hunger. There was a look in Nagi's eyes not unlike what Yohji saw in the mirror on night's where Asuka's absence haunted him almost until dawn. Seeing such hopelessness, especially set in a cold mask like the one Nagi wore, did not bode well.

Neither did having an enemy visit your shop. Suddenly remembering how Omi had walked in on him and Schuldich not too long ago, Yohji glanced nervously at the door leading to their apartments.

"We're not busy, Omi. Why don't you take a break?" he suggested, breaking the tense silence. Both boys glanced at him and he tried to smile reassuringly. "Ken will be back soon, don't worry." That seemed to spark a realization in Omi's mind and he quickly stripped off his apron and ushered Nagi back outside.

As Yohji picked up the scissors to continue his work, he recalled the look Nagi had thrown over his shoulder as he left. It was as if he was looking to Yohji for the answer to some unspoken question, looking for...sympathy? With chilling certainty, the Wei8 assassin knew Nagi's appearance today was related to Schuldich's visit the night before, which still didn't explain what was missing in his head. He was scowling at a flower stem, trying to judge the length he needed, when the shop's bell rang a second time and he compulsively closed the scissors. The two halves of the rose, now useless, fell to the counter as Yohji irritably raised his eyes. Ken was entering the shop, but he had paused to look over his shoulder with a puzzled frown.

"Did Omi just leave? I thought I saw him walking down the street with some kid in a school uniform."

"Underclassman! He wanted to ask Omi for help on something, I think. Probably wondering why the kid's never at school," Yohji responded, surprising even himself with how smoothly the lie rolled off his tongue. He cast a look over the rim of his shades that he hoped would banish all thoughts of Omi. "Is that lunch? I'm wasting away here."

"Ah, right, sorry." As Yohji had expected, Ken quickly forgot his curiosity in favor of food. He set the bag down and let Yohji pull out the boxes one by one, peeking into each one to see what they had. Yohji raised his gaze with a chuckle, intending to point out that there was more food than necessary, but the comment stilled on his lip's at Ken's expression. He seemed to be working up the courage to say something, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Look, Yohji, I..." Ken finally met his gaze and sighed, visibly pushing aside the weight on his mind. "It's good to see you in the shop again." He clapped a hand on Yohji's shoulder then, as if embarrassed, cleared his thoughts and turned away. "I'm going to see if Aya's hungry, so try to resist eating it all, okay?" A flash of his quick grin suggested he was back to normal, but Yohji could only stare at his retreating back.

What the hell had happened to him? And why had Schuldich erased it from his mind?

* * *

Omi led Nagi a few blocks away from the flower shop to an out of the way alley running in between apartment buildings. He doubted they would need to worry about any residents overhearing them but he couldn't help the fear that clenched his stomach as he turned to face the other boy. Like Yohji, he could see the emotion hiding behind Nagi's somber mask and worried at the cause.

"I'm glad you came by," he spoke up tentatively and hoped Nagi could hear the truth in his voice. Yohji was drowning in nightmares of Neu's death night after night, and Ken was struggling to keep Aya from falling into despair over his sister's recent disappearance. Surrounded by suffering friends he couldn't comfort, Omi had longed for Nagi's presence and the contentment he'd always found when they were together. Omi had hoped to draw a shy smile out of his friend, but instead, Nagi seemed to withdraw further into his unhappiness.

"This...this is the last time we can meet." Nagi's words were rushed and there was a tension in his voice that belied the stoic mask he wore. Omi's mind reeled in response.

"What? Why?"

Silence was his only answer as Nagi looked away. Even though Omi felt as if the world had been pulled out from under him, the part of him that was the analytical mind of Weiß was already working out the truth behind this show. Someone or something was forcing Nagi to break it off and the most likely cause was Brad Crawford. Omi should have known this day would come but he never expected Nagi to give up so easily, which begged the question: what was he being threatened with if he failed to comply?

"Okay, you're right," Omi finally said and felt a flash of grim victory when he saw Nagi's shoulders tense. The younger boy hadn't expected Omi to give in either. He had probably been hoping Omi would argue with him, maybe even lure him into explaining the real reason behind this decision, and together they could have dealt with it. But Omi wasn't giving in that easily, despite his words. He moved closer to Nagi and took his hand, entwining their fingers and ignoring the boy's shock.

"I agree that we shouldn't meet for now," he continued, "but that doesn't change how I feel. No matter what happens, I won't lose you." Before his courage failed him, Omi closed the distance between them and kissed Nagi. He tried to put everything into that one brief touch: his determination, his trust, his love. By the time they separated, Nagi had his eyes closed, his solemn mask cracking with despair, and he gripped Omi's hand hard enough to hurt. Without giving Omi a chance to say anymore, Nagi abruptly turned and hurried away. The mastermind of Weiß watched until the other boy was out of sight before trying to compose himself so his team wouldn't suspect anything was wrong. It took several minutes but even when he re-entered the shop with a smile on his face, he couldn't erase the ache in his heart.

* * *

A few days later, when a sudden coded message came from Kritiker, Omi saw the truth behind it immediately. Even so, he kept his suspicions to himself and Weiß accepted the mission. They went to the location provided by "Kritiker and cornered Schrient and then, not unsurprisingly, Schwarz had shown up. Omi never lost his assassin calm, though, even when Nagi tore the building down as the others members of Schwarz escaped.

Later that night, Omi was staring at the computer screen when he heard footfalls on the stairs. He had been reading the report hed typed up of their mission, marveling a little at the cool, precise way he described the tragic events. He didn't need to see who it was because the unmistakable smell of cigarettes gave it away. Yohji paused behind the desk chair, an unlit cigarette between his lips.

"Coma? Omi asked in a bare whisper.

"More than likely, if what you said about him overusing his powers is true. There was a pulse, faint but there. Not so sure about the girl, though, Yohji answered. It was he who had undertaken the task of checking the bodies they found amidst the rubble, knowing Omi wouldn't have been able to bear the possibility of Nagi's death. It had been hard enough leaving the scene without knowing for sure. Omi let out the breath he had been holding though his chest still felt tight. He put his face in his hands but didn't realize he was trembling until Yohji's steady hand touched his shoulder.

"What now, Yohji-kun?" he asked miserably.

"We wait," came the quiet answer.

They didn't have to wait long. By some miracle, Kritiker located Aya-chan and sent Weiß to get her back but of course, Schwarz wasn't willing to give her up that easily. That was how Nagi ended up outside the flower shop's back door, offering to trade the kidnapped Sakura for Aya's little sister. Ken barely listened through Aya's explanation of the deal before exploding with outrage.

"It's a trap!"

"Of course it's a trap," Yohji sighed, "but you're going, aren't you?" Aya met his gaze and nodded.

"Then I'm going too," Ken said and those hard, violet eyes switched to him.

"No. You will stay here and guard Aya-chan." Ken looked like he wanted to fight the order but the honor of being given such an important task finally made him close his mouth. He still scowled until Aya put a hand on his shoulder and gave a quick squeeze. A brief, silent conversation seemed to pass between the two before Ken's shoulders finally relaxed and he nodded his acceptance. Yohji waited until they were finished and then cleared his throat, drawing their attention.

"If we're going to do this, we'd better do it right," he pointed out and they began planning their counter to Schwarz's trap.

A few hours later, Yohji and Ken were crouched in the darkness of Aya's room, waiting again. There was no way of knowing when the attack would come but Aya had been gone long enough that Schwarz probably realized the truth of their rouse by now. Omi and Birman were downstairs but they had opted not to use radios on the off chance they were being monitored. A quiet _snick-snick_ made Yohji glance to his side to see Ken flexing his hands into fists, triggering his bugnuks unconsciously. When Ken did it again, Yohji reached out to touch his arm lightly. It was clear from the brunette's expression he hadn't been aware of his anxious behavior. Yohji shrugged, intending to say "No harm done" but the window shattered the comment was forgotten.

Somehow, he hadn't considered that Schuldich might be the one to show up at the shop looking for Aya-chan, but Yohji's shock quickly gave way to anger. He'd spent many sleepless nights poring over the blank parts of his mind and still wasn't any closer to figuring out what they meant. It was irrational to be thinking about it now, especially since Ken's presence made it impossible to talk, but all Yohji could think about was the need for answers.

Schuldich straightened from the crouch he'd landed in then turned to snatch the sheet from the bed. When he saw the pillows they had used to make it appear Aya-chan was in the bed, he just laughed.

"You didn't really think I'd come alone, did you?" he sneered before Ken leaped forward, eager for a fight.

:So...you noticed.:

Yohji was startled by the sudden intrusion in his mind. Schuldich sounded calm and arrogant as usual, even though he had to move quickly to avoid Ken's punches. A smirk flashed over Ken's shoulder and Yohji bristled at the other man's casual attitude.

/What did you do to me? What did you take?/ he snapped, pulling wire from his watch. One opening from Ken was all he needed to snare the cocky telepath. Unfortunately, Schuldich made his move first. Dropping to a crouch, he swept Kens legs out from under him and in a flash, whipped the bed sheet around to tangle the other assassin as he fell. Yohji had enough time to realize what was happening before Schuldich was suddenly in his face, trackling him to the floor. As they landed, the German used the force of gravity and his weight to knowck the breath out of Yohji, who was suddenly reminded of their earlier encounters.

:Do you want it back?: Schuldich asked, his expression cold as he leaned in close. Some part of Yohji instinctively recognized the danger and his eyes widened as the refusal formed on his lips, but then his mind was swept into chaos.

_Oh God...__ He was shattering, breaking apart into bits of self-hate, guilt, disgust, anguish.__ He wanted to die, for the endless cycle of his thoughts to end, for his hands to stop shaking every time he remembered that awful night, the night he'd--_

A low moan escaped Yohji as he writhed beneath Schuldich. His hands were fisted in the other mans jacket but he alternated pushing weakly at Schuldich's chest and hanging on to the only anchor in the storm his mind had become. His heart was pounding in his ears, his breath quickening, and a hysterical howl was swelling up inside him.

"Quit screwing around!"

The maelstrom suddenly vanished as KenCwho had finally freed himselfClunged forward and scored a hit on Schuldichs shoulder, breaking their mental link. The German hissed in pain but quickly retaliated with an uppercut that sent Ken flying back. Yohji shook his head dazedly, trying to push himself up with one hand, but a foot came down on his back, forcing him to the floor again.

"You two are fun, but if I end it now, youll miss the show," Schuldich snickered from above.

"Show?" Yohji echoed but Schuldich had already stepped over him and leapt easily through the window. "Dammit!" He struggled off the floor to the window but the telepath was gone. With a shock, Yohji realized that the horror he had been reliving was gone as well. Only the tremble in his limbs and moisture clinging to his eyelashes remained to prove that whatever memory Schuldich had taken was awful...enough to cripple him. A soft groan behind him drew Yohji from his thoughts.

"Ken, you all right? Hey!" Unfortunately, there was no time for leisurely awakenings, especially if what Schuldich had said about not coming alone was true. He shook Kens shoulder roughly. "Ken!"

"You don't have to yell," his teammate growled at last but his words lacked any real heat.

"Anything serious? Yohji queried, slightly concerned by how slowly Ken was shaking off the hit.

"No, although he got me pretty good," Ken replied, rubbing his jaw. "I'm going to have one hell of a headache but Ill live." His expression hardened. "Lets go."

However, getting down the stairs wasn't that easy. The fight with Schuldich had been in Ayas room on the third floor and even as stubborn as Ken was, he still couldn't move very fast without getting dizzy. Yohji made a mental note to check him for a mild concussion later. He doubted Schuldich could hit _that_ hard, but the combination of a punch and ones skull meeting the floor without a cushion might be enough. He had one of Kens arms hooked around his own shoulders and they slowly shuffled down the stairs, practically wedged against each other because of the lack of space. There was a time when Yohji would have given almost anything to have Ken pressed up against him like this, and as that thought occurred to him, he almost laughed bitterly. How could things have changed so much in such a short time?

"Yohji, are you okay?" Ken spoke up as they were rounding the corner of the second floor and heading for the final set of stairs. They came to a stop and he twisted to look up at his friend. "You, uh, didn't sound so good back there." It took Yohji a moment to realize Ken was referring to when Schuldich had gone into his mind. The tall blonde shook off the memory with a frown and got them moving again.

"Yeah, I'm fine. He just messed with my head a bit. No permanent damage." Technically it was true, since Schuldich had taken back whatever hed showed him, leaving only a shadow of the horrors to linger in his mind.

When they finally reached the first floor, they found their worst suspicions confirmed: the flower shop was trashed. Not a single piece of furniture remained untouched and even the counter looked like it might be cracked. In the middle of the mess knelt Aya, holding a barely-conscious Omi, with Birman was sprawled beside them. There was no sign of either Aya-chan or Sakura.

"Shit," Yohji sighed wearily. Ken left the safety of the doorway to pick his way unsteadily through the chaos. He dropped down beside Aya, whose head was bowed, and tentatively put a hand on his shoulder.

Looking around the shop, at everything which had been so bright and neatly set-up mere hours ago, Yohji was surprised at how much the change hurt. Nothing would ever be the same after this, even if they managed to live through what was to come. From what Birman had told them earlier, half of Kritiker was already dead and the remaining teams were scattered to protect the organization from crumbling completely. Not that Yohji would have minded if they were freed of their leashes, but he wasn't enough of a fool to believe he could just shake off his assassin shroud and move on into a more ordinary way of life; none of them could. And now their haven, a place he had begun to think of as home despite how entwined it was with his sins, had come to look like this. He stepped across shattered glass and splinters of wood and crouched beside Birman, but aside from her previous injuries and a few new scratches, she appeared to be all right.

"Looks like well be crashing their party after all," he muttered.

"What party?"

It was the first thing Aya had said–the first acknowledgment of their presences–so Ken and Yohji exchanged a wary glance, wondering how best to handle that question. Aya raised his head, violet eyes still as hard and unrevealing as ever. If there was pain or frustration over losing his sister again, he kept it hidden well.

"Schuldich said if he ended it now, we'd 'miss the show'," Yohji explained.

"Which means theyre expecting us," Ken added with a grim smile.

"I guess we'd better not disappoint them. Let me get Omi patched up so he can find out where we need to go, and Birman will need someplace comfortable to rest while were gone. Aya..." Yohji trailed off, feeling out of place giving orders like the leader. For the most part, they left the decisions to Aya, although it was Omi who usually put together their mission plans. The redhead just met his gaze silently, but Yohji knew that underneath those layers of ice, there was real pain. He wanted to apologize suddenly, for failing to protect Aya-chan, for not knowing Schuldich would bring backup, for ever giving into that damn German and complicating things forever. But the words caught in his throat and finally, he could only say, "We'll get her back." After a tense moment, Aya nodded.

"All right, Ken you take care of Birman. Hand Omi over to me." Yohji knew when he left, Ken and Aya would take advantage of the privacy to exchange reassurances or perhaps apologies. All the more reason for him to get out of the way.

As he carried Omi up the stars, he was at first surprised and then saddened by how light he felt. Too much heartbreak in too short a time meant Weiß's mastermind spent more time worrying about his friends and not enough time taking care of himself. Omi stirred when he was placed on his own bed, opening his eyes to blink blearily around him.

"Yohji-kun?"

"Shh, just take it easy for a minute. I wan't to take a look at your injuries. How do you feel?" Omi's expression crumpled suddenly as his memory returned.

"On no, Aya-chan! We couldn't–she's–!"

"Whoa, whoa, calm down. Ken and I weren't exactly heroes either." He massaged Omi's skull lightly, feeling for lumps or sore spots. He softened his tone. "Did they send _him_?"

"No, it was the Irishman Farfarello." Omi sighed miserably and leaned against Yohji's chest. "What are we going to do, Yohji-kun?"

How could he answer that when he hardly knew what to do himself? What _would _they do, provided they didn't all die? He'd stopped thinking about the future when he became an assassin because assassins didn't have futures. He might not live through the night, but he was certain of one thing: he wanted answers from Schuldich before it all ended.

Realizing Omi had lifted his head to look up at him worriedly, Yohji managed to dredge up a weary smile.

"We'll figure something out. For now, just relax while I finish up."

to be continued...


	9. Part 8

"It's No Good"

by Beth Gulla

/.../ represents thoughts

~...~ represents telepathy

**8**

Somehow they made it in. Despite Aya's reckless behavior and Omi's accident in the artillery room, they made it to the heart of the building and defeated two of the three members of Este. The third escaped to where Aya-chan was more than likely hidden below, but Yohji was impressed they had made it this far. The worst was probably still to come, especially since they had seen no sign of Schwarz yet. He had to smile, though, when Ken got flustered by Sakura's gratitude after giving her his sweatshirt. It was a shame the girl was so hung up on Aya; she had no idea how far out of her league he was. He hoped that for all her brave words, she was prepared to see the truth behind their florists' facade.

Finding a stairwell down was easier than they had expected and they soon found themselves standing on a balcony in a huge, high-ceilinged room. The members of Schwarz were easily spotted in their crisp white suits and Farfarello was just raising his arm to eliminate the last of Este's elite three when they arrived. Sakura gasped and looked away as the body crumpled but Yohji wondered grimly if that would be the last death she witnessed that night.

"Give me back my sister!" Aya shouted, pushing Sakura behind him.

"We can't do that, Schuldich drawled. "We need her too."

"In other words, come and get her, right?" Yohji returned, drawing out his wire.

"That's right," the German replied coolly.

The teams quickly split off into pairs and Yohji headed for that shock of red hair, knowing who his enemy was. But before he had reached Schuldich, a gun shot rang out and Yohji's stomach bottomed out. Why did they always forget Crawford's gun? He spun to see who was down but was surprised to find the precog himself cradling a bleeding hand.

"Manx!" Omi explained. The buxom redhead was standing on the same platform they had entered from.

"I finally got in contact with Birman," she said with a smile and Yohji had never been so glad to see her.

~Careless, Kudou.~ It was the only warning he had before Schuldich's double-handed blow from behind sent him sprawling. Yohji shook off his surprise and dizziness to roll out of the way just in time for Schuldich's foot to come down on the floor where Yohji's head had been a moment before. Startled, the blonde scooted backwards to put more distance between them as his mind tried to catch up. They had fought before several times, but never had Schuldich seemed so grim or so dangerous as now. Even the smirk from before was gone and when Yohji stole a quick look around him, he saw it was the same for all the members of Schwarz. Despite a wounded hand and lack of a weapon, Crawford was holding his own against Aya and Ken and Farfarello were grappling amidst smoke from Weiß's pre-laid bombs. Omi was being crushed into one of the pillars by Nagi, and that image got Yohji scrambling to his feet. However, a blur of white topped with red interposed itself between him and the younger assassins.

"Your fight's with me, remember?"

"Of course, how could I forget?" Yohji tossed aside the now-tangled loop of wire he held and drew a fresh strand. If he wanted to survive this fight, he was going to have to be just as serious as Schuldich. He had hardly taken a calming breath when Schuldich came at him again.

Yohji dodged the first punch miraculously but the uppercut that followed caught him squarely under the chin and knocked him back to the ground. Sliding to a stop on the marble, Yohji braced himself and swung a leg up as Schuldich closed in. The German raised an arm to block the kick but he misjudged what Yohji had been aiming for and failed to stop the blow from hitting his shoulder. Yohji smiled grimly as Schuldich winced; he'd guessed correctly which one Ken had clawed earlier. Schuldich retaliated by grabbing Yohji's leg before he could pull away and twisting it. Hissing in pain, Yohji rolled onto his stomach then shoved away from the floor with both hands, catching Schuldich in the chin with his heel. He scrambled to his feet as his opponent stumbled back and loosed a loop of wire but Schuldich was still faster. His image blurred and he caught the wire around his arm instead of his neck, using it to yank Yohji forward to meet his punch.

Yohji coughed as the fist dug into his stomach but grit his teeth and jerked his arm out to the side, tensing the wire so that it cut cleanly through Schuldich's jacket to skin. This was met with vivid cursing and then Schuldich hooked a foot behind Yohji's leg so that when he shoved , the other man was sent crashing to the ground again. Yohji cut the wire as he landed and kicked out, catching Schuldich by surprise and knocking his feet out from under him as well. The next few seconds were a blur of struggling but somehow, as the two men scrambled to their feet, Yohji had ended up behind Schuldich, his wire noose pulled tight. He matched Schuldich's grimness with his own, keeping his grip tight enough so that the German coughed when his first reflexive breath was cut short.

~Well done.~ There was almost a note of real admiration in that voice.

"Fuck you," Yohji snarled back. All his anger from the previous days surged up again, focusing on Schuldich and blinding him from anything else. Another bomb went off and the ground trembled. "Why, Schuldich? _Why?"_

~You lost your edge,~ the redhead replied and despite his struggle to get a grip on the noose, his mind voice was surprisingly calm. ~I gave it back. It's that simple.~

"Bullshit! God _dammit_, that's not an answer! You know what I'm talking about!" A small part of Yohji realized that if he wanted to get an answer he should consider giving the wire a little slack, but the time for rational thoughts was long past.

~Kudou, you always think too much. What does it matter?~ Suddenly Schuldich wasn't just speaking in his mind, but actually in it, throwing their thoughts together. Yohji could feel Schuldich's flickering consciousness–_Fucking precog...always...right–_and the growing burn from a lack of air mixed with his own shock, and then Schuldich was speaking again, in German. The words were the same from that first night but with Schuldich in his mind now, they somehow made sense. ~We're good together, even like this.~

In that moment, the floor gave a final loud groan and collapsed, plunging both teams down into darkness.

* * *

Manx watched the last few pieces of the museum sink below the surface of the lake in tense silence. The girl who had helped her get Aya-chan out safely–Sakura, was it?–was also staring fixedly at where the wreckage had crumpled. They were both waiting for some sign, for the water to splash as someone broke free, but it was disturbingly still. As they were waiting, Aya's little sister, who had been comatose throughout everything, suddenly opened her eyes and sat up slowly.

"Where...am I?" she asked, but just at that moment Manx's cell phone rang.

"Yes?"

"I found two of our kittens: Abyssinian and Siberian," came Birman's voice. She sounded suspiciously close to tears but Manx could hardly blame her as she felt moisture prickling her own eyes; the relief was almost overwhelming.

"That's wonderful. And the others?" Her words were followed by a short pause.

"Still no sign." Manx swore softly but knew a more detailed search would have to wait. Sakura was on the verge of telling Aya-chan everything, which would only further complicate matters. Manx briefly covered the mouthpiece of her phone.

"Sakura-chan, why don't you let her be for a moment, okay?" Her voice was sweet on the surface but there was unwavering steel underneath. Aya-chan blinked back and forth between the two then turned to look out over the water; Sakura wisely stayed quiet.

"Manx?" Birman's voice drifted out of the phone as she raised it to her ear again.

"We're fine, just another surprise, that's all. It seems Sleeping Beauty has finally woken up," she explained quietly and heard Birman gasp.

"What timing... I'll do what I can here and call you back. You'll be alright there in the meantime?"

"Yes, don't worry. I'll let you know if there's any sign of our strays."

Manx sighed and silently wished Birman luck as she closed her phone. Informing Aya of his sister's sudden awakening would not be an easy task. Luckily, Ken was there and from what she'd seen of the pair's behavior, he would likely help control the outburst. Unfortunately, there was no telling if Aya's reaction would be one of fear and the need to hide himself–and what he had become–from her forever, or an immediate desire to see her, despite his current condition. Whichever it was, Manx knew she had some damage control of her own to get to, especially since Sakura had started to drift towards Aya-chan again. With a sigh, she slipped her phone back into her jacket pocket and left the car to begin her own explanations, however temporary they might end up being.

* * *

So this is what it felt like to die. Strange...he had always thought he would be more resistant to the reality of the situation when the time came. But it was so easy just to let go. He was numb, but that was partly due to the shock of hitting the water as well as the temperature. Yohji blinked open his eyes but saw only darkness; his teammates were gone. He wondered if they'd already sunk to the bottom, if this is where Wei8 would come to an end.

Out of the corner of his eye, a glimpse of white smeared in red made him turn his head, wondering why a ghost would be here. Then his brain put the pieces together and he realized it was Schuldich floating there. The other man's eyes were closed and the expression on his face was more open than Yohji had ever seen. His brow was still slightly furrowed in frustration, despite the way he hung in the water; for once, it was a real expression and not a mask. Yohji's own eyes fell closed again.

In movies, they claim your life is played back for you in seconds when you die, but instead, Yohji was remembering Asuka on that fateful night years ago. The night the world as he knew it had been ripped to pieces. Half-conscious from the pain and shock beginning to set in, he had looked up to see her smile before she ran off. She had smiled because she knew, even before the bullets tore through her body, that she was going to die. Thinking back, he recognized the sad truth in her expression now, where before it had eluded him. There was a strength in that last smile because she knew there was hope for Yohji, that her distraction would allow him to live.

Suddenly everything hurt. Reality hit him as hard as the water had and between one instant and the next, the truth that he was sinking into the gloom–_dying_–clicked. His eyes stung from the water, his lungs burned, and his whole body ached. He realized he couldn't throw away what Asuka had paid for with her life, so he fought the apathy and willed strength back into his limbs.

A tug on his arm reminded him of the wire still connecting him to Schuldich. It had become more tangled around his enemy during their fall. If he didn't cut it, the other man would certainly drag him down. His lungs were practically screaming now and in moments, he would start blacking out; there was no time to think. Yohji acted on the first thought that hit him.

A flick of his write cut the wire, even as he hooked his arms under Schuldich's and kicked for the surface, where light glimmered dimly.

He would not survive alone again.

The surface of the lake had finally grown still when something suddenly broke free, splashing wildly for a second or two before calming and began a slow but steady path towards the shore. As the ground sloped up and the water eventually grew shallow, the shape resolved itself into a lanky figure that appeared to be dragging something.

Yohji struggled the last few steps out of the water before collapsing wearily on his knees. His pulse was pounding in his skull, his lungs felt like he'd breathed in acid and his muscles, once he was out of the water, turned to liquid. If he closed his eyes for even a moment, he was sure he would pass out, but as much as his body was demanding rest, he couldn't give in to it yet.

He turned slightly and saw Schuldich hadn't moved, even though he was still half in the water, his legs floating limply. Yohji wrestled to get his soaked coat off then crawled to Schuldich's side to press an ear to his chest. No heartbeat and he didn't feel any movement for breath. Fear coiling suddenly in his gut forced Yohji to move when he thought he had no energy left. He staggered a few more steps up the shore to get Schuldich clear of the water, then dropped to his knees, laced his fingers over Schuldich's chest and began CPR.

15 compressions, pinch nose and breathe twice, repeat. Yohji fell into the cycle furiously, growing more and more agitated when his actions failed to get a response.

"No–fucking–way," he growled, words emphasized by compressions. "I'm not finished with you yet." Breathe again then back to compressions. "God dammit you arrogant, infuriating sonofabitch, _wake up_." He could feel a touch of hysteria bubbling up inside him.

It was too perfect. His whole fucking team dies but he lives on. The only person close to him when the building collapsed was Schuldich, but his rescue attempt was a failure. He was a fucking assassin, tempting fate every time he went on a mission, but he couldn't seem to stop outliving the people around him.

Without warning, Schuldich's whole body convulsed as an cough tore free of his throat. Yohji stared at him in shock but as the coughing increased and began to sound more like heaves, he snapped out of his daze and rolled Schuldich onto his side so his body could expel all the seawater he'd swallowed. When he began to settle, Yohji eased him onto his back, aware that his own hands had started to shake and his chest was painfully tight.

"Schuldich?" He bent down to peer at the other man who had grown quiet again. The white suit paired with pale skin didn't help Schuldich look any better than before he started breathing. "Schuldich!" Yohji would have shaken him but footsteps on the gravel behind him and the unmistakable sound of a clip sliding into a gun made him freeze. There was only one person he could think of who could be behind him with a gun and as impossible as it seemed, it had to be true.

"I saved your teammate's life," he pointed out grimly.

"You ruined everything," came the cool response. "From the very beginning, you've been a nuisance, first interfering with Mr. Takatori's desires, then wrecking all of my careful planning for today. In fact, _you _especially have been quite the pest." There was a pause here, and Yohji wondered if his enemy had decided to just shoot him and skip the speech.

"For what it's worth, _he _came after _me_," he pointed out. "You're not the only one who's life has been fucked with recently." It seemed like a lame excuse but Yohji was too damn tired to consider being tactful. It was another moment or two before the silence was broken by a dry chuckle.

"Of course..."

Wondering if that comment meant he was off the hook, Yohji cautiously turned to face his enemy. Despite missing his suit jacket and being just as thoroughly soaked as Yohji, Crawford had somehow maintained glasses and icy attitude. He had holstered the gun–he must have picked it up after leaving the water, it looked too dry–and was pinching the bridge of his nose. Finally, he lowered his hand and looked down at Yohji with a mixture of irritation and...amusement?

"You saved Schuldich's life and that's not something I would expect, considering he's such an ass," he said at last with a cool smile. The words startled a laugh out of Yohji, although it sounded more like a dry bark. For one insane moment, he realized they were sharing a joke at Schuldich's expense. He and _Brad Crawford_ were sharing a _joke_. Yohji wondered if he was actually in some strange version of hell; the thought of death reminded him of his missing teammates and he looked out over the water that was disturbingly still.

"They live," Crawford said suddenly, startling him. "Somehow, we all live." He adjusted his glasses, his manner quickly becoming all-business. "When he wakes up, tell him I'll be in touch." Without another word, he walked away, leaving Yohji staring after him in disbelief.

"H-hey!" But Crawford ignored him, instead walking directly up the slope to where two lone cars were parked, then he got into one and drove away. Yohji shook his head. "Unbelievable."

The exhaustion was beginning to sink in now as he looked down at Schuldich, who was still unconscious. There were safehouses in the area but without a vehicle it would be almost impossible to make it to one. The lone car parked up the hill drew his attention and he wondered what the odds were that Crawford had planned on having a method of escape once out of the water. What was a car doing out here anyway?

Yohji shook his head and rose unsteadily to his feet then hooked his arms under Schuldich's and started dragging him across the grass. Halfway up the hill, his lungs voiced their protests at being forced into labor after such a brief rest and a small part of him wondered if he should cut back his smoking. By the time they made it to the car, Yohji was wheezing and cursing Schuldich for everything from being unconscious to needing to lose weight. As he reached for the door handle, he swore silent that if all the struggling had been for naught, _someone_ was going to pay. Fortunately, the car was unlocked and violence was forgotten.

With a bit more heaving and shoving, he got Schuldich into the front passenger's seat and buckled in. The German hardly looked comfortable, slumped over as he was, but Yohji wanted him nearby in case he started heaving again. He shut the door, moved around the front of the car, and collapsed gratefully in the driver's seat. Of course, he still had no way to start the car but as Yohji thought about that, curiosity nibbled at his mind and he reached up to flip down the visor. A key attached to a plain metal ring fell into his lap.

No one hid their keys like that, but then again no one parked their car by the side of a lake and then left it without any trace of where they'd gone. Yohji thought of Crawford again as he shifted the car into gear then shook his head. Best not to linger on the motivations of a precog and instead just be grateful he had a ride at all.

Stopping at a light, Yohji rubbed eyes that felt glued shut with lake water and weariness and racked his brain for the nearest safehouse to where he was. He managed to think of one before the light changed and glanced briefly in the rear view mirror before executing a right-hand turn from the leftmost lane. The drivers of the two cars he passed in front of stared blankly at him before looking forward to realize they had the go ahead.

* * *

Omi was dragged back to consciousness by a violent series of coughs that shook his whole body. He retched once and an iron band seemed to contract around his chest, but after that, his body seemed to realize there was no lakewater to expel and relaxed. As he lay there, panting, he became aware of voices and tried to open his eyes, even though they felt weighed down like the rest of his body. He managed to get one eyes open despite the grime sealing it shut and tried to make sense of the words he was hearing.

"–all three of you?!" This was followed by a curse. "He could have killed himself."

Images swam in Omi's vision, out of focus, even after he managed to pry the other eye open. Did he have a concussion? What had happened? He remembered the bitter fight with Nagi and seeing Ken attack Farfarello, and then everything had fallen apart around them and a slab of concrete–!

"–pushed him away–Nagi caught us–swam the rest of the way." Omi had closed his eyes against the bright, blurry surroundings and felt exhaustion pulling at him. However, both voices sounded familiar and hearing Nagi's name forced his eyes open again. He turned his head to the side.

"I'm surprised you didn't leave him to drown," came the cool response and suddenly it clicked in Omi's mind. His eyes widened as he saw Farfarello and Crawford standing a foot or so away. Crawford seemed only mildly disturbed, despite his soaked clothes, and Farfarello looked the same as ever. He was missing his suit coat, vest and shirt and stood in only pants, with bandages wrapped around his middle. At present, he was shrugging in reply to Crawford's comment.

"He wouldn't let go."

It was then that Omi realized the pressure around his chest was not any evidence of injury, but a pair of skinny, white-clad arms belonging to a boy who clung to Omi, even unconscious. Omi's mind swam with questions. He wanted to get up and get away because even the familiarity of having Nagi close couldn't ease his assassin instincts, which screamed of how vulnerable he was. Instead, he found exhaustion yawning like a great abyss beneath him, dragging his conscious down. The last thing he heard before passing out was Crawford's sigh and then,

"Put them both in the car."

* * *

Yohji wound his way through narrow, residential streets, keeping an eye out for anyone tailing him, though not expecting it. Weiss's enemies thought them buried under the lake's surface and the police were too busy with the sudden collapse of the mausoleum to bother with a random car that seemed oblivious to road signs and rules.

When the roof of the building he was looking for became visible over the tops of the other houses, Yohji swore in relief and squeezed the foreign luxury car into a parking spot that was better suited for a domestic model. After switching off the engine, he was sorely tempted to close his eyes and pass out right there, but the promise of a bed, however dusty it may be, was much more tempting than the car seat he currently occupied. Plus, the soft wheezing in and out coming from the passenger seat reminded him his work was not yet done. Squeezing out of the car on his side--he'd left more room on the other side to help wrestle Schuldich out--he went first to the door underneath a set of stairs leading to the second floor. The knob was locked when he tried it, but that didn't deter him. He systematically upended all the potted plants by the door until he found the key buried in the dirt. The nice thing about the wooden stairs above him was the cover they provided, so any neighbors looking out at this hour would see him going in, but hopefully nothing that would raise suspicion.

Yohji unlocked the door and peered inside, looking for any signs of an attack and seeing none. Going back out to the car, he began the arduous task of getting Schuldich into the house. This wasn't made any easier by the fact that the German was still unconscious, but Yohji did his best. With his arms hooked under Schuldich's, he heaved and twisted and cursed until Schuldich was free of the car, then dragged him into the dusty gloom of the house. He had only been here once so after shutting the door and enclosing himself in darkness, he had to fumble along the wall for a light switch.

The place was sparsely furnished, with a sitting area and kitchen immediately before him. He knew there were several bedrooms upstairs, but the thought of hauling Schuldich all that way just seemed impossible. Luckily, there were a couple rooms down the hall and somehow, he managed to get Schuldich to one and up onto the sterile bed that was snugged up against the wall. Too late he realized the white sheets would probably get stained from Schuldich's blood, but then he shrugged it off. Everything in this house was disposable.

Yohji sat down on the end of the mattress, moving Schuldich's legs enough so he could sit with his back against the wall. Now that he'd finally gotten Schuldich somewhere safe, exhaustion settled unforgivingly on him. Though he was hardly comfortable, his eyes were closing of their own will and he was asleep before he knew it.

Sometime later, when something moved against Yohji's leg, his brain registered the sensation immediately but it took several moments before he could convince his body to respond. His limbs felt made of lead and everything had stiffened during his nap, protesting now when he tried to move. He rubbed at his eyes and then turned to look at the man stretched out beside him. Schuldich had apparently just awoken as well, judging by the way he looked around carefully, noting his surroundings. One of his legs had fallen off the side of the bed, but the other was pressed against Yohji's; that was what had woken Yohji up. Schuldich raised a hand to touch his chest, where the wire had cut lines into his coat, before that guarded gaze finally met Yohji's.

Yohji wasn't sure how he had expected the other assassin to react when he first woke up or what they were supposed to do now. After nearly drowning, his brain had only been able to process the simplest requests and so "get to the safehouse" had been the only thing in his mind after Crawford left them. Now other thoughts were beginning to surface and he wished for a cigarette, if only to give him a distraction. Schuldich's expression was neutral, giving no sign as to what his thoughts were, and Yohji fidgeted uncomfortably under his stare until he couldn't stand it.

"I'll be right back." He eased off the bed and left the room, hobbling at first until his sore muscles loosened up. He didn't relax until the door was closed behind him and those blue eyes were no longer boring into his back. He moved across the hall to the bathroom while his confused thoughts tumbled around in his head. There was a question hanging in the air that was on both their minds: Why had he saved Schuldich?

At first, Yohji's instinct had reacted to prevent him from surviving alone, a sin he had grown sick of. But things were getting more complicated now that he had gone so far as to bring his enemy to a Weiß safehouse with plans to patch him up... His original excuse wasn't going to explain away those actions.

The problem was, Yohji was slowly realizing he didn't want Schuldich dead. He thought he had, especially as enraged as he was in the mausoleum, but when he had the chance to just turn away in the water, he couldn't. More than Schuldich's death, he wanted answers: Why had the telepath erased his memories and what exactly had he taken?

Yohji found two heavy duty first-aid kits under the sink--no cheap band-aids here–and dampened a wash cloth before heading back to the bedroom. Schuldich had shifted to the center of the bed but was lying so still that Yohji had to double-take before he saw the faint rise and fall of his chest. Trying to ignore the tightness in his chest that took another moment or two to ease, the tall blonde moved to the bed with his items.

Schuldich cracked an eye open when Yohji sat next to him then wordlessly struggled into a half-sitting position so Yohji could strip the top half of his suit off. Surprisingly, there wasn't a lot of fresh blood, probably from being in the water so long, but the places the wire had cut through cloth and into skin were an angry red. Yohji caught Schuldich wincing as he dabbed at the cuts with the damp towel, but aside from the occasional hiss of pain, the room remained silent.

Yohji could feel a corner of his mind gnawing away at the rest as he worked, demanding to be eased by nicotine. With as much as he smoked, he was probably lucky he wasn't throwing the furniture around like some enraged beast; if he kept trying to ignore it, though, it probably would reach that level of irritation.

"It already has," Schuldich rasped, startling Yohji. It was the first time he'd spoken since they fell into the water; clearly the experience had taken its toll on his voice. The redhead's expression was sour and Yohji frowned right back.

"Well if you happen to have a pack on you, feel free to share," he replied.

"If you don't do something, I will."

"So it's just that easy to change a person's mind? Why even bother warning me? Why not just do it like last time?" Yohji snapped, surprising himself. The words just rolled out but as tired as he was, they carried only a touch of the heat from last night. Surprisingly, Schuldich didn't retaliate right away, but instead glared with lines of exhaustion beginning to show on his face. Yohji let out a breath, trying to calm down. They'd been through this before and he suspected arguing was getting him nowhere.

"I need to know what you took, Schuldich." He said nothing at first, so Yohji swallowed his pride. "_Please_." Surprise flickered across the German's expression and then he shut his eyes, the frown returning.

~I didn't 'take' anything. I just blocked it,~ a voice in Yohji's head grumbled. There was a long pause before he grudgingly continued, ~Close your eyes.~

As the scene unfolded in his mind, Yohji felt like an observer to some horrific parallel world. Everything was terribly familiar, the events leading up to the eventual fight with Neu and the tortured wreck he became afterwards. But unlike the last time Schuldich had shared these memories, Yohji felt nothing but sadness this time. The overwhelming despair and madness were kept at bay, although an ache still throbbed in his chest. That must have been Schuldich's doing, although neither man spoke during the exchange. The images finally faded and Yohji opened his eyes to look down at the telepath, who appeared asleep again. .

"Schuldich." The other man didn't even twitch but Yohji wasn't falling for the act now. "_Schuldich_."

"What now?" the redhead growled, cracking an eye open. "You nearly succeeded in strangling me, sliced up my best suit _and_ me, all while apparently 'saving me' and now you won't give me a moment's rest. How much more abuse am I expected to take?" Yohji was so surprised by the sudden outburst, he couldn't think of a response. In the pause that followed, they both heard footsteps in the hallway. Schuldich tensed--apparently he hadn't sensed the approaching mind--and Yohji jumped to his feet as his mind finally registered what was familiar about the sound: it was a lady's high-heels.

"Yohji!" Manx exclaimed as she burst in, relief flooding her voice. "I thought I heard your..." She trailed off as she saw past him to the person on the bed. Abruptly, her entire manner changed as instincts and training kicked in. She stepped back, now glaring with suspicion as she brought her gun up to bear. Yohji wasn't surprised to find it aimed straight at his chest. "What's going on?"

Everything Yohji could think of sounded ridiculously cliche, but he knew had to say something.

"I gave my life to Kritiker, Manx, I think I deserve a chance to explain." She raised an eyebrow but said nothing, so he took that as a good sign and continued. "Okay. Schuldich and I have...a past, you could say. From the first time he showed up, he was clear this had nothing to do with our teams and while I didn't believe him at first, I've grown to trust him...somewhat. He certainly had plenty of chances to take advantage of his position for Schwarz reasons but never did. Then, when Asu--when Neu showed up... After that, Schuldich did something to make me forget. I brought him here so I could find out why." Even though the memories didn't overwhelm him with sorrow and self-hate anymore, he could still recall how far he had fallen then.

"I wanted to die, Manx. A couple more missions like that and I would've gotten my wish, or gotten someone else killed. Everyone knew it but no one did anything." Yohji shrugged. "I don't blame you, but whatever his reasons were, Schuldich was the one who stopped me. Considering how things have turned out for both our teams, I don't see him as a threat right now. I just need a little time to sort this out. I need you to trust me."

Manx gazed at him, weighing what he had said until at last her frown relaxed, but only slightly. She at least lowered her firearm.

"Okay, I'll trust you. You're right, of course, after all you've given Kritiker, you deserve at least that." She sighed. "The others may not be as understanding. I'll keep my silence but they deserve to hear the truth too." He nodded agreement but on the inside, he was dreading when that time came. "I'll meet up with Birman and we'll bring the others back here. Once we're all together, we can figure out what we do next." She shot Schuldich a distrustful look then left. Once the door was closed behind her, the stillness in the room returned.

~Nice speech.~

/Fuck you./

~Maybe later.~

Grinding his teeth in irritation, Yohji stalked back to the bed and threw the ruined white coat at Schuldich.

"If you don't want to put up with this 'abuse', as you put it, then get out." He was pleased at the genuine surprise that flashed across the other man's expression. "I'm not getting killed by my own team for helping your ungrateful ass." Schuldich quickly got over his first reaction and settled into a more common sneer.

~Still agonizing over _why_ I did it? Maybe I just wanted one last good fuck.~

"Maybe...but I think that's bullshit. Why go through that trouble of actually making an effort on my part, unless you had some deeper motive?"

~What, like brainwashing you into becoming a sleeper assassin so I could one day flip the switch and kill your team? Paranoia doesn't suit you, Kudou.~ Derision was heavy in Schuldich's voice but he wasn't done yet. ~I told you before, we're good together. After weeks of breaking you down, making you mine, that Schrient bitch came along and ruined everything. In one day, she had you wrapped around her finger.~ As he spoke, he struggled to sit up, only managing to brace himself on his elbows and glare at Yohji. Suddenly, it all fell together in Yohji's mind.

"You were jealous." Of all the possible reasons behind Schuldich's motives, this one actually made sense. He had finally worked Yohji's defenses down and gotten him to admit he enjoyed Schuldich's advances, then not only had Neu stolen Yohji's attention, but Schrient as a team had ruined Schwarz's plans by stealing Aya's sister.

~Don't analyze it to death, Kudou, it's a common motive,~ the telepath returned with a grimace as he finally sat up completely.

Yohji looked down at Schuldich, still as pale as the sheets beneath him with stark red lines striping his chest and arm. He tried to decide if that answer was enough, if it satisfied the anger and frustration that had churned inside him for days leading up to this. He realized he was just too damn tired to think about the big picture and everything that weighed on the events of the past few weeks. He put a hand on Schuldich's chest, pushing him back down.

"Don't think I'm not still pissed," he warned, "but you don't have to leave....yet." He sat down on the bed and ran a hand over his face, wishing he could wipe away the weariness that easily. The urge for a cigarette was suspiciously silent.

/Your doing?/

~I did warn you.~ Then, after a pause, ~It's a bad habit anyway.~

/So are you./ As Schuldich chuckled, Yohji realized the mental speech was soothing, so much easier than talking out loud. The silence of the room also made it hard to ignore the exhaustion that hadn't been eased by his short nap. He flopped backwards to lay next to Schuldich, who muttered something unintelligible but shifted to make more room. They ended up with Yohji just on the edge, his leg over the side and his foot on the floor, while Schuldich was lying on his side, turned towards the blonde with one shoulder touching the wall. They were close enough for Yohji to feel the heat of Schuldich's body and he realized this was the first time they had shared a bed without having sex right beforehand. It was a weird thought. He wondered what would happen now, not just to Weiß but between him and Schuldich.

The other occupant of the bed chose that moment to point out quite grumpily that he was thinking too loudly so Yohji closed his eyes and wondered if he could catch a little sleep before his team arrived.

to be continued...


	10. Part 9

Updated: 7/13/10 - For those of you still reading this, bless your hearts. I know what it's like to be a fan of a fic whose chapters take longer and longer to be posted and I can only apologize profusely. I think in some small part of my brain, I have been constantly putting off finishing this story because once it's over, it's over. I've given so much time to these boys that I hate to say goodbye. However that's no excuse for making you patient fans wait so here is part 9. I can't promise when I'll post the next chapter but I can say there's only one more after this. As always, I'd like to thank everyone who's read up until now, especially those who have sent feedback. You guys rock. 3

Due to the website rules about mature content, this chapter is only available on my website. You can reach it via the link in my profile or you can copy and paste this link (taking out the spaces and changing the "dots" to periods):

www(dot)angelfire(dot)com / anime / JadeHawke / splash(dot)html

I'm now on my fourth word processing program and once again facing the challenges of formatting and converting to HTML so I apologize for any errors you come across.

I hope you enjoy!


	11. Part 10

Author's Note: After far too long, here is the final chapter! I really appreciate all the people who have followed this story throughout the years. I hope you enjoy! As usual, I apologize for any typos or misspellings you may find. Also, I always seem to have formatting issues when I post here so please feel free to check out the story's homepage (the link is in my profile) if something looks weird.

"It's No Good"

by Beth Gulla

/.../ represents thoughts

~...~ represents telepathy

**10**

Crawford was seated across from him in the quiet diner. Schuldich half-sprawled on his side of the booth, one leg stretched out and his back to the wall. He scratched lightly just under the gauze on his neck, scowling. It wasn't the cuts that bothered him, it was the gauze itself. It was itchy as hell and had been annoying him most of the morning. Crawford, watching him over the edge of his glasses as he stirred his coffee, shook his head.

"Maybe if you had listened to me," he began but Schuldich flipped him the bird.

"Whatever. I'm here now, aren't I? Not so all-knowing after all, are you?"

A muscle above Crawford's eye twitched but that was the only reaction his comment earned him. He considered pushing him further but decided against it. He was tired, cranky from the constant itchy sensation, and hungry, but he didn't have any money and he refused to ask Crawford for some. Considering his last barb, the precog would take great pleasure in telling him no.

Just then the waitress came by with a tray that wafted delicious odors. Crawford had already been at the diner by the time Schuldich found his way over, so he must have ordered earlier. He was still scowling when a plate overflowing with eggs, bacon and hash browns was set in front of him. Toast and pancakes were added to the table but he noticed nothing was set in front of Crawford. When he glanced at Crawford, the other man was smirking as he raised his mug to his lips.

/Point one for the smug asshole,/ he thought and picked up his fork. He continued out loud: "So what now, fearless leader? And why aren't the other two minions here?"

"Because they already know what they're doing." Crawford set down his mug and folded his hands in his laps, regarding Schudlich soberly. "Schwarz is officially dead but Eszet isn't going to give up that easily. It would be a good idea to leave Tokyo, at least for a year or so. By then they will have found some other puppets for their games and will be less inclined to want us back." His eyes got that unfocused look for a moment that came with remembering a vision and he chuckled, as if seeing something funny. A moment later, his attention was refocused on Schuldich but his tone when he spoke was almost too-casual. "You might want to pick somewhere you won't stand out as much. Maybe a tourist hotspot, since there would be plenty of foreigners there." Schuldich tried to come up with a reason for Crawford's suggestion. He watched blankly as Crawford slid out of the booth and stood, picking up the receipt that was face-down on the table as he stood and straightened his suit coat.

"That's it?" he said dumbly. Crawford gave him a thin smile.

"Try not to get yourself killed this time," Crawford said. He pulled out his wallet and dropped a couple bills on the table, smirking when Schuldich's brow furrowed in confusion. "For a cab, unless you planned to walk across town." He left then, stopping at the front counter to pay the bill. Schuldich stared at the money. The flowershop was across town, where he knew Yohji and the rest of Weiss were meeting. He'd told Yohji he would meet him there but he hadn't made any promises. His plan had been to see how the meeting with Crawford went before making a decision. Of course, he hadn't thought about cab money.

Crawford couldn't have known what Schuldich would do, unless he'd seen a vision of it. If that was the case, he was either assuming Schuldich would go along with the vision, or planning on just the opposite, since the German was always quick to do the opposite of what he was told. Either way, it was so like Crawford that it gave him a headache.

/Asshole./

He decided to eat before his food grew completely cold. He'd make a decision once his stomach stopped growling.

It was a weekday morning so luckily the hordes of schoolgirls were absent. Even with the yellow tape and "Now remodeling!" signs, Yohji wasn't sure the girls would have stayed out if they suspected the florists were inside. Fortunately, opaque cloths had been hung to hide the interior from prying eyes. Nagi stood awkwardly near one wall, trying to blend into the background almost, but after forever seeing him in that Japanese school uniform, having him standing there in a regular t-shirt and shorts was like setting up a neon sign with an arrow pointing at him.

Schuldich wasn't here. He'd left as Yohji was still struggling to wake up and Yohji remembered mumbling to the redhead that they would be at the flowershop. He wasn't sure if that meant Schuldich would meet him here or if the telepath would return to the safehouse. He tried to counter the slight feeling of unease by pointing out to himself that the nicotine cravings were still absent. Since Schuldich seemed to control them consciously, that must mean he was still nearby, right?

Ken was sweeping up the broken glass as Aya and Yohji cleaned up the larger pieces of furniture. Aya-chan watched the clean-up from a stool that has escaped destruction. It was sad to see the shop in such disarray but Yohji's emotions felt removed. His own thoughts were occupied over what Manx and Birman would say when they showed up. He guessed the others felt the same because no one spoke as they cleaned. Omi was gathering the wilted flowers that were strewn about but he paused every so often to just stare at nothing. Yohji wondered if he was remembering the night the shop had been attacked. It was easy to say it didn't matter anymore, since Aya-chan was safely back with her brother and half of Schwarz seemed to be on their side, but Yohji knew from experience you couldn't use logic on haunting memories. At one point, the young blonde jumped as if someone had spooked him but he turned to look at Nagi and smiled sheepishly. Nagi wasn't a telepath but something passed between them unspoken before Omi returned to what he was doing.

The clicking of heels made them all pause to look at the doorway that led to their apartments; the door had been broken off and lay to the side. Manx came through first, wearing a navy blue skirt suit that was so different from her usual red, it made Yohji double-take. Birman wore a soft blue suit cut in a similar style that looked quite good on her, but the suit jacket was settled over her shoulders, mostly to accommodate her bandaged right arm and the sling it was in. Manx was walking stiffly, not limping to a great extent, but a second look showed bandages on her left thigh, just peeking out from below the skirt hem. When they had met with the four yesterday, the woman had looked fine.

"Manx, Birman, what the hell?" Ken dropped his broom and crossed the room, uncaring of the debris he kicked out of his way.

"Are you okay?" Omi exclaimed, though he kept hold of his broom.

"Well, as we were just telling what remains of Kritiker, we are all right, although it was a close call," Manx said with a mysterious smile. She glanced at Birman, who took over.

"We were searching the wreckage for some sign of our time but unfortunately, we found only two bodies: Abyssinian and Siberian. The mausoleum–what's left of it, anyway–is so unstable that when we tried to get to where they were half-buried, the building started to collapse again. We got out quickly and continued to search but that was when we really hit trouble. The albino from Schwarz was waiting beside Bombay's body and attacked us when we came upon him. Manx was quick to get some shots off but not before he stabbed her. Then the Este agents showed up. Lucky for us, they were more interested in retrieving the albino but one of them did clip me."

"One thing is clear," Manx said calmly, "Weiß is dead and more than likely, Schwarz with them."

Silence followed these words as their words sunk in. The story was so obviously false and yet their injuries looked real. Manx was carefully keeping her weight shifted on her uninjured leg and Yohji saw a flash of pain cross Birman's face when she moved her shoulders, as if trying to shrug away stiffness. He saw the serious set of their expressions, despite the wry twist to Manx's smile, and knew suddenly that they'd hurt themselves in order to back up the story. He could picture Manx nodding consent to Birman, who thrust a knife deep into her partner's thigh. Then Birman would have stood calmly while Manx took the calculated shot that left her right arm in a sling. Or maybe they'd reversed the order but Yohji knew for certain that they'd done it and concocted this story to make sure their team was free.

"Crawford suggested the addition of Eszet agents," Manx said when she'd allowed them enough time to absorb the full meaning of their situation. "He wanted Kritiker to think Schwarz was out of the picture as well." As they digested this, Yohji saw Nagi glance at the curtain that separated them from the outside. He wondered if Schuldich was still out there.

"So that's it," Birman said, almost regretfully. "Where you go from here is your decision now, though I would suggest staying away from Tokyo for a little while. I think Kritiker had planned to inspect what was left of the mausoleum and it wouldn't be good for them to come across you on the streets." The teammates exchanged looks.

"I've always wanted to see Kyoto," Omi spoke up hesitantly but Ken made a face.

"That place is swarming with tourists," he said.

"But that would be good for business!" Omi countered. Ken stared at him blankly for a second before realizing what Omi was thinking.

"_Another_ flowershop? Are you serious?" The others chuckled but Yohji could see why Omi was thinking along those lines. Their skills were unfortunately limited to killing and flower arranging, with a few extras thrown in like Omi's computer knowledge or Yohji's past as a private investigator.

"Before you start working out the details, I think it would be best we take our leave," Manx said and her smile this time was a little sad. Everyone sobered at this news but they knew she was right. Since she and Birman still worked for Kritiker, it would be best for them to know as little about the quartet's plans as possible. It was bad enough they knew the members of Weiß were still alive.

As hugs were exchanged and they each tried to fit into words the gratitude for all these years, Yohji hung back. He thought of how long he'd chased Manx, refusing to give up even though his usual charms seemed to have no effect. She was the only woman besides Asuka who seemed amused by his flirtations but never fell prey to them. As much as they owed Birman for finding them, Manx was still their first handler, the one who held her loyalty to Weiß over Kritiker. She had tried to help Aya find his sister after they'd been given orders to back off. She had showed up in the nick of time to get Sakura-chan out of the mausoleum during the last battle. She'd trusted Yohji when she could have shot him for the traitor he appeared to be.

Manx was still smiling as she approached Yohji and he took a couple quick steps forward to keep her from limping any further than she needed to. He had no idea what she saw in his expression but she chuckled.

"Take care of yourself, Yohji," she said and raised a hand to the back of his neck. Gently—he was too dumbfounded to resist, really—she guided him down for a chaste kiss on the lips. As he straightened, eyes wide, she grinned. "For all your hard work. And just so you don't stay up late wondering, it wasn't the failure of your womanly charms that kept you from winning me over. I was just...already taken." As she stepped back and turned to look at her partner, who was approaching, Yohji felt like a complete idiot for never seeing what was so obvious. Birman smiled back at Manx with the same warmth before turning to give Yohji a kiss on the cheek. Apparently they had finished their goodbyes to everyone else because once done with him, they headed to the door leading to the apartments, pausing in the doorframe.

"It has been a pleasure working with you all," Manx said and they both bowed together. Then, with sad smiles, they left. It was several minutes before anyone spoke.

"So…should I look for shop space in Kyoto?" Omi asked.

"I guess," Ken said with an over-dramatic sigh and Aya nodded with a smile.

"Count me out," Yohji said then had to hold his hands up to forestall the flood of questions he could see in their shocked expressions. "I'm still coming with you guys! I just thought I might try being a P.I. again."

"Yohji-kun, don't scare me like that!" Omi said, exasperated. "All right, then I will start looking today and see if I can find some apartments nearby."

"Make sure we're near a good school," Aya said. Aya-chan's face lit up and there was hope in her eyes as she watched her brother, apparently waiting for something. After another pause, he sighed resignedly and added, "A university, not a high school." With a squeal of delight, Aya-chan launched off her stool and nearly knocked over her brother with a hug. Yohji wondered if this had been a point of contention between the two of them. Aya-chan had been 16 for the past 2 years and was clearly excited to get out and live life, rather than repeat what she'd done before her accident.

As Aya began to lecture about his conditions of letting her go to college, Yohji stifled a yawn and moved to the tarp that screened the front of the shop. He peeked around the edge but saw no sign of school girls yet. No Schuldich either.

"I'll be right back," he said over his shoulder.

"Don't think you can skip out on helping us clean up, Yohji-kun," Omi called after him as he maneuvered around yellow tape. "We can't leave this mess for Momoe-san!"

He went down to the coffee shop at the end of the block and ordered a small coffee to go. They'd found a hidden cache of money at the safehouse so they were no longer penniless. Plus, they all had money secreted away in banks that Kritiker wasn't connected to. He'd worry about getting that once they'd figured out where they were going. Thoughts of the future made Yohji's stomach twist uneasily but he avoided thoughts of that almost automatically. He found he was scanning the streets for a familiar face and mentally kicked himself.

~Hey.~

Yohji was so startled he almost lost his grip on the coffee. As it was, he only splashed it over his hand, which made him hiss in pain and start cursing. Schuldich, who had been leaning against a tree a few feet from the shop, completely unnoticed by Yohji, grinned as he moved forward.

"You seemed deep in thought so I figured that would be better than saying something out loud," he said but the amusement in his voice contradicted the apology in his words. Instead, he just chuckled as Yohji shot him a dark look, easily picking up the image in Yohji's mind of him dumping the cup over Schuldich's head. As Yohji's anger cooled, he waited for Schuldich to say something but eventually realized Schuldich was waiting for him.

"So...you met with Crawford?" he said finally. Schuldich shrugged.

"He deigned to grace me with his presence," he replied, stuffing his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. He seemed different somehow, almost a little distant. "He told me to leave Tokyo. Not much else besides that." As he said this, he reached up to scratch under the edge of the gauze, almost unconsciously, because he scowled and stopped suddenly once he realized what he was doing.

"Have you thought about Kyoto?" Yohji asked before he lost his nerve. He hurried on to add, "You'd probably blend in better with all the foreigners that pass through."

Schuldich stared at him, his scowl draining into a blank expression. Before Yohji could ask what was wrong, the redhead swore—in German, from the sound of it—then began muttering to himself—still in German—with annoyance plain in his voice. Yohji shifted, unsure how to handle this sudden change and what it could mean. With a few exceptions, Schuldich had been noticeably different since being pulled from the lake. He almost seemed sullen, like he had been prepared to die and resented having that taken from him.

He didn't notice that Schuldich's rant had stopped, or considered that the other man might be listening in on this train of thought until he was suddenly shoved backwards. He stumbled a couple steps and the coffee cup went flying as it was knocked out his hand. Schuldich was a blue as he slammed Yohji into the wall of the building next to the flowershop, pinning his arms to the brick on either side of his head. The telepath molded himself against Yohji in a way that had his pulse leaping, especially when he slid his leg between Yohji's and attached his mouth to the blonde's neck.

~You'd prefer things were like the 'good old days'?~ came the familiar purr in his head and Yohji made a strangled sound as a thigh rubbed against his crotch. He felt his cock stir in response and Schuldich was sucking hard enough to hurt, but it was hard to just give in when they were on the goddamn street, right out in open.

"Schuldich!" he hissed and the other man finally pulled away from his throat with a wet, smacking sound. Yohji immediately knew he had left a dark mark behind, probably too high to hide with his collar and almost definitely on purpose.

"Relax," Schuldich said, grinning. "No one's noticed us yet." And true to his words, as Yohji watched, the other pedestrians out and about this morning just passed by them without even a curious glance. The fixed way they all stared straight ahead hinted it wasn't just luck that kept them from being noticed. Yohji glared at Schuldich anyway but the redhead didn't seem deterred. Instead, he let his hands slide down Yohji's arms and chest to settle at his waist, no longer restraining him but not backing away. He nuzzled the other side of Yohji's neck.

"I guess you're feeling better," Yohji grumbled and felt Schuldich's lips curl up against his skin.

"Yes, now that I've got my shit sorted out, as Crawford put it. So...Kyoto."

"Yeah, I...was thinking of being a P.I. Again." Schuldich straightened to meet his gaze and Yohji felt his heart thudding with something besides desire as he waited for Schuldich's reaction.

"Do I get to kill the bad guys we find?" the redhead finally asked and it took Yohji a second to process the question. He didn't realize he'd been holding his breath until it whooshed out of him in a relieved sigh, the knot of unease in his stomach finally unwinding completely. He felt a grin curling his lips and then realized that the answer didn't really matter as Schuldich was leaning close to kiss him again.

Schuldich's hand moved down to massage his trapped erection and even as Yohji arched into the touch, he wondered just how far the telepath planned to take this. Even if no one could see them, Yohji's heart still jumped every time a person walked by. Schuldich broke their kiss to bend his head and lick at the hickey he'd left just minutes before, rocking against Yohji before reclaiming his lips to swallow the other man's groan.

"Y-yohji-kun!"

Yohji recognized the voice even if the "kun" added to his name didn't give it away. Startled, he broke the kiss and turned his head to see Omi standing at the flap where he himself had exited earlier. Omi's mouth was hanging open and Yohji felt just as shocked, until he looked back at Schuldich, who was smirking.

"I guess my concentration slipped," he said, not sounding regretful in the slightest Yohji saw strangers were still passing them by without a care and was suddenly furious enough to strangle Schuldich all over again. Instead, he shoved the redhead away.

/You'll be lucky to get anything from me now,/ he thought at the telepath. Schuldich's eyes narrowed but his smile widened.

~Is that a challenge?~ The heat in those eyes nearly undid Yohji's resolve right then and there, but he clung to his pride.

/That's a promise./ He tried for as icy a tone as he could then turned and stalked towards the shop. He nearly got tangled up in the off-limits tape as he tried to slip back in but he ignored the curious looks of his teammates' as he snatched up a broom to begin cleaning with a vengeance. If Omi had planned to say anything about Yohji shirking his duties to make-out with Schuldich, he wisely kept his mouth shut after that. In fact, he looked a little wide-eyed with worry at Yohji's sudden ire, even if it wasn't directed at him. Schuldich came in a few minutes later but stayed behind the cracked counter, his eyes never leaving Yohji as he moved around the room. Yohji refused to look at him. The others seemed content to go back to their small talk, though they never tried to include Yohji or Schuldich. If they thought it was odd that the telepath didn't jump in with his usual snarky comments, no one pointed this out.

Only Yohji knew why the telepath was so quiet: he was busy flooding Yohji's mind with silky whispers and images and sensations of the many things he planned to do to Yohji once he finally gave in. It started out small, with just a flash in his mind every now and then, but it quickly escalated into an entire scene that played out so vividly, Yohji had to grit his teeth and will himself not to come right then and there.

"Yohji-kun? Do you want to take a break?" Omi asked hesitantly, seeing that he was breathing hard and clenching the broom handle with white knuckles. Across the room, Schuldich snickered loudly.

"I'm fine," Yohji replied shortly and imagined beating Schuldich repeatedly over the head with the broom until he felt calmer.

The mental torture continued for another hour after that, until Yohji was certain that at any moment he was going to launch himself at Schuldich and fuck him senseless, no matter what audience they had. During a break in the onslaught of sensations, the former members of Weiss looked around and realized they had done all they could to help Momoe-san with the mess. The rest would be fixed by the decorators. Omi and Nagi decided to head back to the safehouse while Aya and Ken took Aya-chan to buy new clothes. Ken shot Yohji a curious look over his shoulder as they left but Yohji clung to his forced smile, promising he'd be there later.

When moments later, Schuldich was bending him over the counter to purr, "Ready to eat those words?" as he ground against Yohji's ass, it was really no surprise that he gave up with a shuddering groan. But even as Schuldich chuckled and slid their minds together, Yohji thought loudly, /It was worth it./


End file.
